Found In The Woods
by The Moonlily
Summary: A chance meeting in the woods of Ithilien results in some rather unexpected consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Found In The Woods

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairings:** Éomer/Lothíriel

 **Genre:** Romance/Drama

 **Summary:** A chance meeting in the woods of Ithilien results in some rather unexpected consequences.

 **Disclaimer:** The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.

 **Author's Note:** This story is a funny little thing that occurred to me some time ago. I guess I'm still detoxing from all the angst of ALWR, and wanted to write something a bit more light-hearted.

The first chapter will no doubt leave you with some questions, but we will get to the answers soon enough!

I hope you enjoy the story. If you got time, let me know what you think!

* * *

Though the matter of the marriage of Éomer King of the Mark came to be because of a few coincidences and a fair amount of accident, one person who could be held accountable for the chain of events was Prince Amrothos of Dol Amroth.

That was Éomer's chief impression when all was said and done, although things got into motion before the carefree prince had a chance of getting his sticky fingers all over it; while Éowyn and Faramir's invitation for him to visit them in their new home had him travelling to Ithilien in the first place, it was Amrothos' whim to join the party that utterly changed the result that was to come out of this trip.

He had met Imrahil's youngest son during the march to the Black Gate, and though they were in many things each others' opposites, a friendship had grown between them. Of course, he had high regard for Imrahil's entire family, but unexpected things tended to happen when one was in Amrothos presence for a prolonged period of time and he had found it supremely amusing. Yet at the end of his visit, Éomer was tempted to consider maybe the prince merely acted as a hand of fate this time, if one was to believe there was such a thing.

Éomer and his company had travelled from Edoras at fair speed; the entourage was not a very formal one and he took only his own Guard along, and so they were able to ride faster than if a proper royal escort complete with courtiers, servants and stablemen had accompanied him. He preferred it that way, because even after a year of kingship he was still not used to everything his new position entailed. Not to mention it would probably have taken an entire month just to reach Mundburg.

They had stayed in the White City for a few days as Aragorn's guests. It had been good to see his close friend, even if the older king had gone a bit overboard with his hospitality. Though he knew he could trust his Marshals and advisers, only Aragorn really understood the difficulty in transforming oneself from just another man into a king. But as long as he knew his brother-in-arms had his back, Éomer dared to hope things would be all right in both their kingdoms.

After bidding farewell to Aragorn and Arwen, he and his company headed for Emyn Arnen in Ithilien. They could have taken a ship from the port of Harlond in Mundburg, but the journey wasn't too long and he infinitely preferred riding to sailing. Not to mention, Éowyn had spoken much about how beautiful Ithilien was, and he rather wanted to see it with his own eyes instead of spending long, tedious hours on a ship he didn't entirely trust.

They followed the stream of Anduin down towards Emyn Arnen, letting the river guide them to the dwelling of Prince and Princess of Ithilien. On the way, Éomer's eyes kept reaching for the horizon and anxiously waiting for the moment he'd see his dear sister again. Though he never told her in their letters, he missed her very much, and he had never quite felt as lonely as he had ever since the day she had left the Mark. The two of them were the last that was left of their kin and this reality was hard to bear when she was so far away from Rohan. But her letters were happy and there was contentment about her these days, and that meant more to him than anything else in the world.

On the day things took the bewildering, life-changing turn, Éomer and his company were pressing for their destination, hoping to reach Éowyn and Faramir's home before night came. She had told him the woods were still somewhat unsafe, what with occasional marauding orcs or Southron bands that came harassing the fair woods in the hopes of catching travellers unawares. Faramir was working hard to cleanse the land, but it was not a job one could finish easily or quickly when so little time had passed since the fall of the Dark Lord. Éomer knew his company would be well-equipped to deal with menaces, but he was also eager to see his sister, and horsemen were not as mobile as they would be on open ground. Not to mention, woods offered plenty of spots to set an ambush.

Éomer was already thinking of the moment of their arrival to his sister's new home, of sharing supper with her and Faramir, and then talking away the night until Éowyn would shoo them all to bed. But this pleasant line of thought was interrupted by the hasty arrival of his scout – a man named Folcred, who had been riding in his éored as long as himself. The look of alarm on his face had the young king tensing in his saddle.

"Sire! We are needed immediately!" Folcred exclaimed upon seeing the King's Company.

"What is it?" Éomer barked the question, and in his mind he was already going through several potential situations – worst of them being that Éowyn and Faramir's home was under attack... he knew the idea all too well, and in his mind's eye he saw the fire and the panic of those who couldn't defend themselves against evils of this world...

"There is a small company of travellers not far from here. They have been surrounded by orcs!" Folcred replied quickly, and though the situation was probably quite dire for the said travellers, Éomer already felt himself relaxing somewhat.

"How many orcs did you see?" he asked the scout.

"I counted twenty, but there may be more", Folcred answered, and now the King of the Mark was relieved. His company of thirty Knights would take care of the orcs quickly, as long as they got there in time. Upon his departure from Edoras, he had thought such number of Riders a bit extreme, but his advisers had been adamant. As long as the Riddermark had no heir, Éomer would have to endure the King's Guard following his every move whenever he left the capital of his realm. But as it turned out, now he was merely glad for having so many capable men at his disposal.

"Show us the way", he commanded, and with that the King and his Riders hastened ahead again.

They rode as fast as they dared on the uneven forest ground; they would not be of any help to the travellers in peril if their horses broke their legs while racing through the woods. But like Folcred had said, they were not far, and soon enough Éomer could hear the shouting and clashing of steel – all too familiar to him after so many years of war. As he lead his company closer and closer to the site of battle, he loosened his light rider's bow in its saddle sheath, and then tested the swing of his arm and the spear with a careful little motion, readying it for the moment he'd spot his target.

Sunset was at hand when they came to where the travelling company was under attack. Usually, orcs did not make an appearance while there was any daylight left, but he had seen them changing this habit after the fall of the Dark Lord. Driven to the wild and stripped of their earlier might, famished orcs even dared the daytime if it meant they could capture prey and supplies. His men roused their voices into their battle-cries, and the band of orcs shrieked their own horrid words as an answer. Some tried to flee, but others turned on the Riders – an unwise decision, as was shown by their charge. Not wanting to harm any of the travellers, Éomer did not throw his spear, but rather used it to stake down one particularly large orc. The next he took down with his bow, shooting an arrow through its neck, and only after the shaft had leaped from the string did he notice _her_. He had the barest moment to see the orc collapsing on the top of what looked to be a woman, and both she and the orc went down. The young king cursed under his breath, hoping his arrow had not caused her demise. With her dark cloak, he had not seen her before it was too late.

The orcs were finished soon enough. Like he had expected, they were not much of a challenge to his men, and instead of shouting and fighting, the site filled with cries of the wounded. Meanwhile, Éomer sent some of his Riders to search the woods about them, in case any orcs had got away. Others he ordered to search and help the wounded among the corpses of orcs and horses.

Then came a shout: "Éomer! Sweet Elbereth! I have never been happier to see your face!"

The young king turned and saw Prince Amrothos, grinning in relief and waving his hand in greeting. As always, Imrahil's son was arrayed in the blue and silver of his home, and his longish hair was tousled about his face. Where Elphir and Erchirion possessed their father's dignity, Amrothos seemed too preoccupied with his carefree pursuits to really try and appear like a lord of a high line of Westernesse.

"You're lucky we happened to be close by, Amrothos", Éomer answered as he slid down from his saddle. He couldn't really feel any joy for the ending of the battle, because all he could think of was the shape of the woman as she fell to the ground... where was she? Had he got her killed, too? Béma, to think he may have caused the death of an innocent...!

He glanced at the prince, "What are you even doing here?"

"Same as you, I think. I heard from Faramir they were expecting you to visit, and so we thought to join the party – one sees you so rarely these days..." Amrothos babbled on, as was his manner. Usually, it was mostly amusing to Éomer, but now he was getting far more information than he had time for. Even then, one bit about it struck his notice.

"We? Are your brothers here, too?" he asked, scanning the shadowy area for other two princes, but didn't see them. A cold lance went through his heart: had Elphir and Erchirion fallen?

"No, not at all. I was travelling with my sister. Now where is that girl?" Amrothos answered, and Éomer could see the first dawning of dread on the young man's face. The prince began to trudge through the scene of battle, calling the name of his sister, "Lothíriel! Lothíriel, where are you? I swear, if you don't answer me _this second -"_

The King of the Mark was already running. making for where he had seen _her_ fall. It couldn't be! Had he got Imrahil's only daughter killed? Panic thrummed in time with his heart; he remembered her face, her long dark hair, the soft grace of her movement, just as he had first seen her in Mundburg after the war... he couldn't say much about her character as they hadn't talked much, but he recalled she had kind, warm eyes. And he did know Imrahil and his sons loved her dearly, and if she died...

He saw the orc's carcass at last and yanked it away hard, uncovering the smaller body underneath. Her eyes, grey and bright, were wide and staring and there was orc blood on her face. She was making a soft, whimpering sound – _she was alive –_ but she remained motionless even as he rolled the corpse away, thus releasing her.

Éomer lowered himself on one knee next to her, searching for her hand in the darkness, and finding it clammy and shaking. At once, he realised she was in shock.

"My lady, are you hurt?" he asked her as gently as he could. But she didn't respond, and he touched her cheek gently with his free hand. "Shh, it's all right. The battle is over. You are safe now."

To his relief, he didn't find any blood that could be hers – there was only thick, dark orc blood staining her face and riding gown. He spoke soft, gentle nonsense, mostly in his own tongue. It seemed to have the hoped effect as she eventually blinked and the staring expression left her eyes. She blinked again and looked at him as though she only now saw him there. The princess tried to sit up, but Éomer pushed her back carefully, as to not frighten her.

"It's all right. Just take your time. There is no hurry", he reassured her and gave her hand a gentle little squeeze. Her own fingers curled about his tightly, as though she was terrified of the mere idea of letting go.

It was then Amrothos arrived, stumbling through the site of battle and more or less falling on his knees next to his sister.

"Lothíriel! Thank Elbereth! I already thought you had got hurt!" he exclaimed and reached for her free hand, but the young woman let out a yowl of pain. Hearing this sound, Amrothos flinched back.

"What is it, sister?" he asked in alarm.

"My hand hurts", she answered in a thin, weak voice as she pressed her left forearm against her chest.

"Is it broken?" Éomer asked as he helped her to sit up; he kept his hand close to her back, as he was not yet certain she would be fine.

"I... I don't know. It hurts", she mumbled and he could feel her shivering. They really needed to get her to shelter – poor thing was out of her mind with terror. He had seen such reaction before and knew it could get bad if it wasn't treated properly.

"She is in shock. We need to get her somewhere safe and warm", Éomer said firmly as he got up on his feet and carefully lifted her from the ground. He considered she was tougher than one might have guessed – she stood on her own two feet and didn't seem to need Amrothos' support as much as he was offering it.

"I'm fine", the princess put in, though she was still pale and unwell.

"Faramir and Éowyn's home is not far from here. Can you take my sister there?" Amrothos asked, eyeing his sibling in concern.

"Of course. I already sent my scout to alarm Faramir. His Rangers will soon be searching the woods in case there are more orcs. And I shall leave some of my own men here´", Éomer answered, looking for Firefoot with his eyes. The sooner he got the princess to the safety of Faramir and Éowyn's house, the better.

Éothain must have been close by and known what his king wanted, as he came leading Firefoot by reins. The stallion was whinnying and shifting restlessly, and he only grew more anxious when he came closer to the princess. It probably had to do with the orc blood that stained her face and cloak; the war-horses were trained to be sensitive to any smell that hinted of orcs. So, instead of lifting the shivering girl into the saddle, Éomer mounted the stallion himself to calm Firefoot down. The last thing they needed right now was the stallion bolting and throwing her off his back. The weight and the words of his rider had the horse settling down again, and he allowed Amrothos to bring his sister next to him.

Éomer was already making space for the princess behind himself when the two siblings speaking had him halting.

"No, not the back. I don't know if I can hold on. Lift me before the King", she said to her brother. At once he realised what they were about to do. And they had not the barest inkling what it would look like!

"My lady -" Éomer started in alarm. No, they could not, they didn't know -

But Amrothos was focused on his sister, and she was only thinking of getting away from this place. So, before he could protest, Princess Lothíriel was placed directly into his lap.

 _Oh no._

 _To be continued._


	2. Chapter 2

As night's shadows grew deeper around them, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth eventually came back to her senses. The longer they rode, the calmer and clearer her thoughts became. Partly it was because the site of battle was falling behind and they were getting close to her cousin and his wife's home, but also because of the man she was riding with. Even if she hadn't known he was a famous warrior, she had to just look at the King of Rohan to know that while she remained in his immediate vicinity, there was nothing in this forest that could harm her.

She didn't remember much of the battle, just bits and pieces: the shout of alarm when orcs had come, falling from the saddle when her mare had collapsed under her, making her fall... she guessed that was how she had hurt her hand, too. And then the moment she had thought to be her last... the orc had stood before her, its blade bared and ready to take her life. But then an arrow had come in the dying daylight and the creature had fallen straight over her. There she had lain, unable to move or even to cry for help, as terror consumed her senses.

At last, someone had pushed the corpse away and there was a tall, long-haired man towering over her. She knew at once he was a warrior, from the sight of his heavy armour to the air of an elite soldier she recognised from growing up with a family of fighting men. He had knelt next to her and his voice had been soft and soothing, even though she hadn't understood a single word he said. The sound had calmed her down enough to realise it was the King of Rohan himself. Besides her shock, there had been a mixture of mortification and relief, because of all the people in the world to witness her moment of weakness it had to be _him,_ and yet just seeing him she had felt completely, utterly _safe._

Now they were riding for the home of Faramir and Lady Éowyn and she felt consoled again, although she was cold and weary and her wrist was throbbing painfully. There was something soothing about the movement of the horse under them, and King Éomer held her steady with one arm. Eventually, she couldn't fight the temptation of placing her head against his shoulder and letting her eyelids fall shut.

"My lady, you must not fall asleep", he spoke suddenly, shaking her awake again. She didn't know if he was aware of it at all, but he had a very pleasant voice.

"But I'm so tired", Lothíriel mumbled; for some reason, the journey from Dol Amroth seemed distant now, as though it had been years since she and Amrothos had left their home to visit their cousin Faramir and his wife, the famous Lady of the Shield-arm.

"I know. But you need to stay awake until a healer can take a look at you", the King said, commanding but still gentle. He was a nice man, she had noticed – perhaps reticent and hard to get to know, but she thought those qualities did not hide an evil heart. Back in Minas Tirith she had seen great warmth about his gaze every now and then, especially when he was with his sister.

"Don't worry. We will soon be there", King Éomer said and gazed ahead. Meanwhile, Lothíriel was taking the opportunity to regard him. She thought he couldn't have been further away from the noble lords of her own land, what with his long blond hair and dark beard framing his jaw. Perhaps he wasn't the fairest of men, but there was character and strength about his features, and the way he carried himself announced authority and pride. This was indeed a king among men.

Her line of thought came to an end when the horselord began to slow down.

"There's a small stream ahead. It's getting too dark and I don't want the horses to hurt their feet, so we must lead them across", he said and pulled away his hand from her. "Hold on tight."

Before she could say anything, he was already on the ground. He surely moved easily in and out of saddle, and the horse followed his lead in a way she hadn't seen before, but on the other hand, she didn't really expect anything else from a man of Rohan. After the way her brothers had spent weeks yapping on about Rohirric horses when they had returned from war, she felt like she too could have given a lecture on the matter, although she hadn't seen any of these famed steeds before this night.

"Do you think you can stay in the saddle by yourself?" the King asked her, bringing her mind back to focus.

"I... I'm not sure", she said at length, dismayed that she couldn't promise him for certain. She had already exhibited her fragile constitution enough as it was, and was loath to continue to seem weak, but the more stupid course of action would be to stubbornly try and appear steadier than she was - and consequently fall into the stream face first.

"It's all right, my lady. I'm happy to help", he said calmly, and before she knew it, he had already lifted her down. Her knees felt shaky and she grabbed his arm for support, and then it wrapped around her gently. At the same time, he was talking to one of his men in their northern tongue, and the Rider he had addressed to caught the King's stallion by reins.

They moved forward again, towards the small shallow stream that probably ran to join Anduin. The King of Rohan walked slowly next to her, giving her time to adjust her wobbly steps and helping her to stay upright. He felt solid and steadfast like a mountain, and about as tall; a bit dizzily Lothíriel thought the man by her side was the highest point in Ithilien.

"May I carry you over the stream, my lady? No need to get your feet wet", he asked her when they were on the bank of the stream.

"All right", she answered, figuring out in her current predicament, it would be a good idea to keep her feet dry.

The King of Rohan wasted no time. He picked her up easily and there was no hesitation in his hands and arms when he did. For a moment she closed her eyes and just breathed, feeling how he moved as he strode across the stream. His feet were sure and steady and he walked with the confidence of a man who is assured of the path before him. Perhaps that, along with his quiet sincerity, was what made it so easy to entrust herself with him.

They reached the other bank with three long strides, but he did not put her down yet; instead he waited for his stallion to be lead over the stream, and then he helped her into the saddle again. In less than a minute he had taken the place behind her once more, holding her weary body secure with his hand and arm. Without this support, Lothíriel was sure she would have long since gone sprawling into some bush.

"We're almost there", said the King softly and picked up the reins in his free hand. As soon as the rest of his Riders had crossed the stream and were mounted, they continued their way.

Exhaustion crept on her once again and she craved sleep, but he had spoken true: there was a shimmer of fire's light in the night and she could hear voices of men. They were shouting in an alarmed fashion, and she guessed they were now close to the dwelling of her cousin and Lady Éowyn. Indeed, soon enough they rode into a wide courtyard. It was lit by torches and around them Faramir's Rangers were rushing as they prepared to scout the woods. The King's messenger had already reached them and made the alarm. Lothíriel glanced about and her eyes fell on a tall, blonde woman at the wide doors of the hall. She didn't yet know Éowyn very well, but Faramir appeared to be smitten with her, and by all accounts they were quite happy. That made her perfectly agreeable in Lothíriel's book.

As the company of the King of Rohan came to a halt in the courtyard, so did White Lady see them, and Lothíriel saw how her features shifted into a most peculiar expression. The princess was not certain if it was anger or shock or a mixture of both; she was more inclined to think the former when Lady Éowyn sharply exclaimed the name of her brother. Then she came striding through the crowd, talking so fast in Rohirric that the King could scarcely get a word in between. What a way to receive the long absent brother! One might think he had done something very wrong.

The two siblings kept going and their conversation sounded more like an argument than anything else. But then the King spoke fiercely, and Lady Éowyn fell silent.

For a moment, the tall woman stood speechless. Her eyes were on her brother, but he was already talking to one of his Riders. This time, it was in Westron.

"Please, help the Princess down. But be careful about it – she has been injured", he ordered, and she could still feel his hand pressing against her back when one of his men gently helped her down on the ground. Her knees felt weak and she took support of the stallion with her good hand, while the hurt one she kept close to her chest. However, she almost forgot about this when she saw how the Rider who had lifted her down was bowing his head at her. The gesture was far more reverent than a foreign princess would deserve from a Rider of the Royal Guard of Rohan's king.

"Brother, you need to tell her", Lady Éowyn said as King Éomer got down as well.

"No. She has to see the healer first", said the Lord of the Rohirrim, his tone firm and determined.

The blonde woman didn't seem pleased. Her nostrils flared and her blazing eyes were wide, but she didn't try to argue further; the princess thought it must be terrifying to get caught in between these two when they were truly fighting.

"Can you take her inside, Éowyn? She needs to get warm, and quickly", the King said, making a gesture towards the doors of the hall.

"You don't have to talk about me like I wasn't even here", Lothíriel put in, having found her ability to talk again. Even then, she had to admit he had a point when he said she needed to get warm. Her limbs were starting to feel numb from the cold.

"I'm sorry, my lady. We didn't mean disrespect. But my brother is right – we need to get you inside", said the Princess of Ithilien, and gently she placed her arms around Lothíriel's shoulders. Too tired to argue, and knowing full well she needed to do as the King had said, she let herself be taken into the house.

The healer was a gentle elderly man who had previously served in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith, but had followed Faramir when he had come to establish his home in Emyn Arnen. He spoke softly as he examined Lothíriel's hand and forearm, and she was glad to hear it was merely sprained, not broken. He also told her the shock seemed to be subsiding, but she was nevertheless grateful for the blanket around her shoulders and a mug of tea in her good hand.

Faramir made a brief appearance to inquire about her well-being, but then he had to hurry along to send his Rangers on way. Éowyn remained close by, but she left momentarily when the healer had given his verdict; when she heard the voices talking in the next room, she understood the White Lady had merely gone to relay the good news to her brother the King.

"Where is Amrothos?" Lothíriel asked when her cousin's wife returned.

"Éomer says he stayed behind to help with the wounded. Don't worry, my lady – my brother left plenty of men to stand guard, and Faramir's Rangers will soon be flushing out any remaining orcs", Lady Éowyn said gently and touched Lothíriel's shoulder in a comforting fashion.

The princess nodded quietly and stared at her mug for a moment. Then she glanced up again, meeting a pair of blue-grey eyes.

"It was your brother who found me. I was trapped under the body of an orc, but he released me and calmed me down", she said softly, recalling again that moment when he had knelt by her side and spoken in that gentle, soothing tone.

"He is better at it than he admits. Éomer is a good man", Lady Éowyn answered solemnly. Then a frown appeared on her face, and she glanced at the door before turning towards the princess again, "My lady, if you are up to it, he would like to talk to you."

"Of course. Please ask him to come inside", Lothíriel said; she couldn't yet smile, but she hoped she didn't look entirely agonised to the older woman.

In a few moments, the King of Rohan stepped inside. Apparently, he had not even had a chance to freshen up yet or change out of his armour. She frowned, wondering if he had spent all this time just waiting outside.

"My lady, are you feeling better already?" he asked her, regarding her with some concern.

"I am. The healer says I should be as good as new", Lothíriel answered softly. For a moment she hesitated, searching for the right words. Eventually, she cleared her throat and continued, "I didn't yet have a chance to thank you, my lord. You were very kind to me back in the woods."

"As I very well should be, my lady. All members of your House are friends of mine, and I do not make habit of ignoring the need of others", he answered and bowed his head before speaking in a low tone, "especially when it was my arrow that killed the orc which fell on you. I am very sorry about that – I didn't see you before it was too late."

"It's all right. Without your arrow, I would now be dead", she answered. A shiver passed over her limbs and she wrapped the blanket tighter about herself with her good hand.

Perhaps the King of Rohan saw that, or otherwise felt her mood, for a troubled look visited his face.

"I think maybe we should talk more in the morning. You need to get some rest, my lady", he stated at length. She felt the unease of his manner and tone and it made her wonder, but in any event he was right. She needed to get some sleep; the healer had promised to make her a potion that would help her to rest tonight. After the events back in woods, she was glad for the promise of deep, dark sleep.

"Very well. I am rather tired", she admitted softly, feeling weariness deep in her bones. After all, it had been a long journey from Dol Amroth. She would have liked to see Amrothos before she went to bed, but on the other hand, he might not be arriving any time soon. And sooner she was able to close her eyes, the better.

"I will ask Éowyn to help you out. I believe a room should be ready for you any moment now", King Éomer said and he nodded at her again. "Good night, my lady. Rest well."

"Good night, my lord."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here's an update! Hope you enjoyed it. :)

I know, I know, I promised answers, but I wanted to show Lothíriel's POV too, and I think she was mostly in the need of some rest instead of explanations. In any case, I think our stage is now rather set! :)

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Your comments mean more to me than I could tell!

* * *

 **Guest -** We'll see! :)

 **Nerdanel -** Well, my muse has a mind of his own, and I had been drafting this before ending my last story, so here it is! I'm glad if I could brighten up your day. :) Also I'm glad if I could give them so much character in such a brief time. I don't know if this Lothíriel is the kind you described/hoped for, but we'll get to that!

 **eschscholzia -** Hopefully it is to your liking!

 **Doranwen -** Glad to hear you think so! I'm afraid I can't yet give a clear answer, but we'll get there!

Also thanks for pointing out that little mistake. You are correct - my brain sometimes makes leaps like that, too!

 **Guest -** I hope this new chapter doesn't disappoint!

 **coecoe11 -** Hope you enjoyed it!

 **Rinarwen -** They're definitely very different people, but it's fun to imagine what kind of friendship they would have. :) And yes, she really had a rather awful evening - up until he arrives, at least!

 **shine lots -** We'll see! ;)

 **Lydwina Marie -** Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

 **Anon -** Yeah, it was great to get to write his POV once again. But I'm afraid the explanation as to what just happened will have to wait for a little while more!

 **finantheagile -** Well, I don't think characters planned anything, but I sure know where this is going, if that's what you meant!

 **Jo -** Thanks! :)

 **Lathril -** I'm glad you took time to review this time! I admit I miss ALTE, too. It was such a work for love for me.

Anyway good to hear you are enjoying this story. It's fun to be writing through Éomer's eyes again, hopefully we'll get back to his POV soon.

 **Luckylily -** Thank you!

 **Laure -** Glad to hear that! But I got to say, I can't remember doing this same thing in my other stories? Maybe it has been something a bit similar, but I still can't say for sure.

 **EStrunk -** We'll get to that, eventually! I'm afraid our characters are too exhausted for answers right now. But I hope this chapter answered your question about her hand. We'll get more explanations sooner or later!

 **meldisil -** I'm happy to hear you liked it! :)

 **pulchritudo in omnia -** Thanks! :) I can't give an answer yet, but I promise we'll get there eventually. I hope you enjoyed this chapter nevertheless!

 **S -** If that is the case, I'm flattered! Good luck with your exams!

 **sga900913 -** Thank you! Glad you are enjoying it. :)


	3. Chapter 3

It was not until the late hours that Éomer finally got to his own bed and passed out, weary to bone. He had stayed up to get reports from his men and to be present for whatever news Faramir's Rangers would bring back. It was hardly how he had hoped and imagined the first night in Ithilien would go, but sometimes things just didn't follow one's design.

From his men, he received a few curious looks. Éothain at least knew what had happened with the Princes was simply an accident, but he could tell some of them were wondering why was he still around when this was their first night in Ithilien, the lady was here, so how come he hadn't gone to join her in her chamber? Unbidden, an image came to him: long dark hair spread on the pillows, the soft warm skin that smelled of flowers, and the sound of a female voice sighing in welcome... he nearly slapped himself and felt like a complete idiot. He would do well to not let himself fall out of line.

As for Éowyn, he wasn't that surprised about her initial reaction. From what he could gather, it had been partly because she had first thought he had been sneaking behind her back and making such life-changing plans without even telling her, and then she had jumped right to the idea that this was some reckless bit of nonsense she was so fond of lecturing him about. Lastly, she had rightly guessed the Princess Lothíriel had no idea of what had happened, and in a form of female companionship Éowyn had directed her fury at her unfortunate brother. But eventually he had been able to get a word in and then explain what had taken place, and she had calmed down. In fact, he was rather surprised of how soon her indignation had cooled. Maybe she was already putting two and two together and considering the possibilities this situation presented.

Eventually, some Rangers had returned along with his Riders and the wounded. Apparently, no more orcs could be found in the woods. Either there had never been more than the band which had attacked the Amrothian company, or they had all vanished into the shadows of the night. Be that as it may, Faramir was already planning on organising extra patrols, and also asking Aragorn for more men.

Éomer had rather planned on staying up and going over the events again, but eventually Éowyn told him to go and get some rest.

"Believe me, brother – you will be needing it, if you mean to be able to explain anything to the Princess", she had told him wryly. Grudgingly he had to admit she was right.

So he had collapsed in the bed she had given to him, and thankfully sleep had taken him in a few moments. Despite the night's excitement, he did have a long journey behind himself.

Morning was bright and fair, and most noise that carried into his rooms was birdsong – quite the strange thing, as he was used to sounds of horses and the household waking up to another day. It was also later than the usual time he got up in the morning, but apparently he had been even more tired than he had realised last night.

After washing and getting dressed, Éomer went on his way to search for something that could be called a breakfast. Hopefully, it would hearten him for the confrontation with the Princess.

With the help of directions from a servant, he found Éowyn, Faramir and Amrothos in an airy dining room. It had something of a Eorling air about it, like many things about his sister's new home. He knew Faramir had involved some Rohirric craftsmen when renovating this place for his bride, and as far as Éomer could see, Éowyn couldn't have loved it more. He rather appreciated it as well, for he couldn't have imagined his sister being truly happy in some southern palace that held nothing of her birth home in North. But this... this was a good life. This was what she deserved.

When they had exchanged their greetings and Éomer had taken seat next to his sibling, he leaned closer to her and spoke in low tones, "Is the Princess still sleeping?"

"The maids are with her now. Amrothos said he went to see her after he had woken up, and reported she looked to be feeling much better than last night. I believe she will join us soon", Éowyn answered quietly. She looked doubtful when she asked, "What are you planning on telling her?"

"The truth, I think. I have already delayed it long enough as it is", Éomer answered. He had to bite the insides of his cheeks in order to keep the grimace from his face.

"I do not think her brother will like it. Nor will he be glad to hear he was helping to make it happen", Éowyn pointed out.

"To be honest, of her entire family Amrothos is the least likely to get angry. In fact, I believe he would think of it as a wonderfully entertaining", Éomer said wryly. Thank the Powers for such small graces! Had it been Elphir or Erchirion to accompany her here, they would probably have chased him all the way back to the Mark. Maybe the prince could also help him to convince the Lady Lothíriel that this wasn't utter madness.

"Well, just let me know what you two will decide to do. I should like to know whether to plan a wedding feast or a funeral", Éowyn said. Whether she was joking or not, he could not even say.

As though summoned by their hushed conversation – the topic of which remained blissfully unknown to Faramir and Amrothos – the Princess Lothíriel arrived then. Éomer noted she still looked a bit pale, but her mood appeared calmer and she even managed to smile at her kinsmen. Her injured hand she kept before her and lay it carefully on the edge of the table to let it rest.

Imrahil's daughter was rather pretty, with that shiny dark hair he had secretly admired from the start, and bright grey eyes of Númenor's race. She wasn't as tall as her brothers, but like them she had a natural ease about the way she moved. But she was more quiet and shy than them, perhaps due to living in the shadow of three older brothers, one of whom was Amrothos. What would come out of it if she was given a chance to emerge from that shadow, to live as a high lady of her own right? Even so, he could sense the underlying warmth and gentleness, accompanied by a vast capability for affection which was suggested by how she behaved around her kinsmen. The man who had her love would be the happiest bugger in the world.

"How are you today, cousin?" Faramir asked, delivering the question that was in all their minds.

"Much better. Sleep did me a lot of good", the Princess said with a slight smile as she reached for a breakfast roll.

"Just take it easily for a day or two. Your father would probably come personally after us all if something happened to you", the Steward said solemnly; it was impossible to mistake the care in his voice. Éomer thought maybe he saw his cousin more as a little sister.

"He so would", Amrothos agreed, nodding sagely and patting his sister's arm.

"Really, there is no reason to worry about me", she said quickly; it was clear she disliked this attention.

"Faramir, have your Rangers found any more orcs in the woods?" Éomer asked, partly because of genuine interest and partly to lead the conversation away from the princess. From the corner of his eye, he could see her looking at him gratefully.

"None so far. I don't think there were more than those you encountered last night", Faramir answered and sipped his tea. A slight frown grew on his face and he continued, "Even then, I do not like that they dared so close to our home. If Aragorn is able to send me more men, I would like to give these woods a more thorough sweeping and make sure the orcs aren't trying to establish some kind of a foothold nearby."

"They will return eventually. The mountains are too close, and there are too many hiding places up there. They will regroup sooner or later and creep back into these woods", Amrothos pointed out, his voice more serious than usually. His sister sat silent but Éomer saw she was following the conversation keenly: she had forgotten about the food before her, and her eyes burned bright. If this didn't signal a mind interested in greater matters than the most recent court gossip, he wasn't sure what did.

"Maybe so, but when that time comes, we will drive them back again. And we will keep doing so until those foul beasts are finished", Faramir answered firmly. Éomer knew it was a task his brother-in-law might just be occupied with for years, if not decades. Then again, he was well aware the threat of orcs would remain for many years to come in his own kingdom, too. However, without the dark will to drive them, he was sure orcs would sooner or later become more of a nuisance than anything else. Meanwhile, Men would grow and thrive, and the evils of the days of the Ring would turn into a story for old wives to frighten unruly children with.

"Ithilien is already much more secure than it was a year ago. This land will heal", Éowyn said, meeting the eyes of her husband.

Éomer smiled to himself. With a pair so determined, the rich and sunny woodland was sure to prosper sooner or later. But it would take hard work from them all, and they would have to brace themselves for setbacks. As hard-won this peace had been, maintaining it would require sweat and tears as well.

Perhaps Amrothos had already had enough grave topics for one day, as he proceeded to ask about how Legolas and his company of elves were doing. Éomer decided to take this opportunity, and he looked at Imrahil's daughter.

"My lady, may I ask you you to join me for a walk after the breakfast?" he inquired softly. She looked at him sharply and he could see a gentle flush give some colour to her face, which had been so pale until now.

"Of course, my lord. It would be my pleasure", she answered and offered him a smile. How sweet and unsuspecting she looked! Somehow, he was able to return the smile. But inside, he was dreading the outcome of the talk he planned to have with her, and wondering if it would turn that good will and warmth into loathing.

He could only hope for the best.

* * *

The day was a rather beautiful one as they ventured out into Lady Éowyn's garden. It was a lush, green place, with neat rows of herbs and plants, and well-tended bushes. In the middle of it, she had hard time remembering the shadows and terror of last night. Lothíriel imagined it was full of pleasant fragrances and bursts of colour in spring, when nature would wake up after winter. Looking around herself, she could tell it was a treasured place, and that the mistress of the house took good care of it. One might have had hard time believing it, if you only went by the stories of the White Lady. But on the other hand, Princess Éowyn had seen death unlike anyone who lived, and from that point of view it made perfect sense that she would now be seeking to tend to things that grew.

How much did it differ from the land in the North? She had heard tales of the green valleys and little rivers and herds of horses, and a fierce blond-haired people that lived there. Glancing at the tall horselord striding by her side, she thought he suited well the image she had in her mind. Surely such strong hands and hardened figure would thrive in the rich, dark earth of the land between mountains and the great river.

Lothíriel cleared her throat then, determined to break the silence before it could grow very awkward.

"I was wondering if you thought myself very cowardly last night, the way I allowed that orc upset me so badly", she spoke out loud the concern that had entered her mind almost as soon as she had woken up today. Somehow, it seemed incredibly embarrassing to be considered craven by this man.

"Not at all, my lady. It's not the first time I've seen someone disheartened by battle", he stated in a grave voice. He sighed heavily and looked away, and she thought his expression belonged on a face of a man much, much older than his nine and twenty years. It was easy to forget he was so young when he had the eyes of someone who had seen many dark winters. It rather made her wonder: how come her carefree brother Amrothos and the King of Rohan were so good friends? She would have thought someone so sombre would find her sibling's company obnoxious. Then again, maybe that _was_ the reason they got along so well.

She was still thinking of this observation when he suddenly continued, "I have often seen it before, my lady. During my time, I have trained many young lads and lead them to their first battle... so many of them go into it hopefully, as though it was child's play. But then they come to the battlefield, and it's not practice anymore – the orcs are swarming, the whip of their master is driving them, and you _know_ the only thing that's going to keep you alive is _yourself._ Grown men have been known to lose their nerve and flee in terror. And too many times I have been there to witness their last moments, as they lay in their own blood and scream for their mothers..."

Lothíriel shuddered at his words and the terror of last night threatened to come too close, but he seemed to realise then he had spoken much more openly than he had meant.

"Forgive me, my lady Princess – I am being dreadful and ill-mannered, and I should not torment you with such talk. But I was brought up among warriors, and sometimes I forget their manner of speaking is not fit for pleasant conversations", he said and bowed at her, looking sincerely discomfited. For a man so renowned for his deeds as warrior, he surely did not seem to think of it with that reckless gallantry her brothers sometimes displayed.

"It's all right, my lord", she said in a thin voice and nodded her head at him. She breathed deeply and went on, "I know you didn't speak to cause harm. In our courts, one may sometimes hear fairer words with fouler intentions, and I think ultimately those are the worse kind."

"Aye", he said, nodding as well. "I rather agree, my lady."

Having settled this, they continued to walk again. To herself, Lothíriel thought that once she had put some distance between herself and the events of last night, the King's words of just now would probably mean much more to her than the dread they had brought at the moment. Be that as it may, she also had to wonder about how very grim his life must have often been, if _that_ was how he regarded his profession. Suddenly, she understood perfectly why he would seem sad at times.

Feeling she had not yet made her gratefulness clear enough, she sought for the words to express how glad she was he had been in the woods at the time of her distress. So Lothíriel looked up at the man walking slowly by her side.

"My lord, I want to thank you again for your help last night. I believe you saved my life, and you were very kind in bringing me here to safety", she said, and the tall man stole a quick glance of her face.

"Don't mention it, my lady. It's not my way to leave innocents into the hands of orcs", he merely stated. "And it would be a very bad show of friendship towards your father and brothers."

"Indeed. Father speaks very highly of you as well, my lord", she said, nodding slightly. She knew they had met one another during the Battle of Pelennor fields, and that Father believed they would all have died without the aid of the Rohirrim.

"How is he, by the way?" King Éomer asked.

"He is very well, though King Elessar tends to keep him very busy these days", Lothíriel answered with a fond smile. She could tell Father was very invested in helping the new king to restore the realm, and some days he even resembled a young man in his enthusiasm. Of course, these tasks often took him to Minas Tirith, away from his family. She missed him when he was gone, but it was also good to see him so in his element.

"Faramir tells me the same. I only hope it won't lead him to neglecting my sister", King Éomer said with a slight stern note to his voice. Lothíriel hid her smile when she imagined her cousin asking for the hand of this man's only sister. It must have taken tremendous courage – though, on the other hand, that was precisely what Faramir was known for. Just as Boromir had been.

She looked down when she remembered her late cousin, and felt again the grief of his passing. But thankfully the Lord of the Rohirrim spoke again.

"I can see why Éowyn likes this place so much. It is beautiful indeed", said King Éomer then, interrupting her musings. She glanced at him and saw him looking ahead with something bittersweet on his face. Softly he went on, "It's good to see her so happy."

While she didn't doubt the sincerity of this sentiment, she could also feel the sadness that mingled with it. She considered for a moment how to set her words, and then spoke, "I can see you care for her deeply. But what of the rest of your family? Do you have other siblings or cousins back in Rohan?"

"No. Éowyn is the only family I have left. The rest... well, the rest were taken by the war, in one way or the other", he said, and she could see his frown growing deep and dark. She looked up at him with wide eyes, angry at herself for bringing up such a painful topic, and yet she felt like she finally understood why there was so much sadness in him. Well, she had known his uncle had fallen on the fields of Pelennor, but somehow she had always assumed he had other relatives back in his own land.

"I am so sorry. I didn't know", she said quickly and squeezed his forearm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

"It's all right. Thankfully, being a king keeps me too busy to dwell on it too much", he said somewhat gruffly. "And my friends tell me it gets better once I have started a family of my own."

"Yes. I imagine that should be helpful", Lothíriel agreed, though she was still worrying her lip. The words were just on her tongue, those words that had lived on the back of her mind from the day she had first met him, but it was all wrong, especially just after hearing what bitter losses lay behind him. She had no idea of what kind of a reaction it would cause, because this horselord was so unlike the men she had known until now _._ She was rather envious of her father and brothers who got so easily along with him, though she knew well the reason it was so hard to just be herself before this tall Rider.

"Speaking of which... my lady, like I told you last night, there is something we need to talk about", he said suddenly, making her look up again. His tone was strange and it made her shiver in the expectation of what could be bad news.

"What is it, my lord?" she asked warily.

He let out a heavy sigh before answering. They had stopped in the middle of the garden now, and the place was full of birdsong. From the courtyard carried the voices of men and horses, and somewhere she thought she could hear Faramir giving commands to his Rangers.

"My lady, when you rode with me last night... though I know you meant no such thing, I'm afraid we made a certain implication to my Riders and those of Éowyn's household who came with her from the Mark", he started in an uneasy voice.

"What do you mean?" Lothíriel asked, frowning in confusion.

"Lady Princess, as you know Rohirrim are a people of horses. Many of our beliefs and our rituals have to do with them, and I know it may be bewildering and hard to understand, if one has not lived among us", he started, speaking in a tone so steady that it sounded like he had previously practised giving this speech. The King cleared his throat and went on, "It would have been nothing if you had ridden behind me. And of course you are innocent in this – you and Amrothos could not have known. But you took seat before me, your kinsman lifted you there, and... my lady, if an unmarried woman shares the saddle with a man who has no wife and rides in the front of him, in the Mark it means she has accepted him."

"Accepted him how?" she demanded to know, though she already had a fairly good idea of what he was telling her, but maybe she had it wrong after all...

"Accepted him as her betrothed. Sometimes it's taken to imply they are already lovers", he said, sounding like it was a strain on him to get out these words.

For the longest time, Lothíriel could only stand there and stare at the horselord. Was this some kind of a joke, meant to dissolve the dread of last night? Was she supposed to laugh now and tell him he almost had her? However, his face was serious and so far, nothing had made her think he might have a bizarre sense of humour – except for his friendship with Amrothos, maybe.

"What", she managed at last, her voice coming out as a strangled little squeak.

"I truly am sorry, my lady. I would have stopped you if I had been able", he said stiffly. "I tried to tell you, but you and your brother were not listening to me, and then it was already too late."

"Too late! Why are you only telling me this now?" Lothíriel demanded to know with slightly more force than before.

"Because last night you were in shock and needed the care of a healer. It wouldn't have done you any good to hear this news, seeing the state of mind you were at the time", he answered, and his words made more sense than she liked to admit.

"You think so?!" she asked him, growing more and more hysterical now. "What kind of a tradition is this? Is it designed to trapping unsuspecting women into marriages with men they hardly even know?"

Her choice of words was vicious, that was true. But even in this moment, when her mind was growing something furious, she felt a strange jab at how he flinched.

"Lady Princess, I assure it's nothing of the sort. Women of my land know the implications of this deed and they can't be fooled into it. But you must understand – like I said, Rohirrim are a people of horses, and we prize them above all earthly riches. Important unions like marriage is communicated through our gestures, not by lavishing our loved ones with jewellery and gold that can be lost or stolen, or used to rouse greed in others", he answered, his tone growing more and more heated. He could have been telling her anything at all and she wouldn't have been placated. Instead, the pressure inside her head just grew more intense.

"I don't care about your gestures or what you meant! I was injured and in shock!" she exclaimed and moved back from him, and her eyes filled with angry tears. She felt betrayed and hurt, not caring whether those feelings were overreaction on her part.

"And I very well know that, my lady! I only wanted to take you to safety as quickly as I could!" the King of Rohan replied fiercely. There was a flash in his eyes as well, a hot fire she had not seen before. Some part of her became aware that this man had wild and terrible things in him, things that made him a nightmare to his enemies. But after last night the mere idea of being afraid of him was foreign to her, even if she hadn't been so beside herself with anger.

"Then maybe you should have told my brother to get me here!" she shouted at him.

"And let you out of my sight, my lady, while we didn't know if there would be more orcs waiting in the shadows? When I knew my Riders were better equipped to deal with them, and our horses trained to detect orcs even in the dark?" the Rohir asked back in a loud voice. He stood motionless, but his figure was tense and stiff, and he seemed to stand taller than any man she had ever seen.

"I am not your responsibility!" she cried in desperate anger, though a feeling was growing on her maybe she was a losing this battle.

"But you are the only daughter of the man who saved my sister from the Pelennor fields when I had already given up hope! And it got too damn close that you died because of me!" King Éomer barked back, his words silencing her.

Seconds became minutes as they stood there facing one another, but neither of them spoke – or shouted – now. Lothíriel's mind was in tumult as she tried to see how she could somehow blame this on him, as though that would have made it easier. But her reason spoke against her. Hadn't she heard her father and brothers praising King Éomer and calling him their friend? And wasn't his reputation that of an honest, honourable man?

He had not tricked her into anything. The situation had just been an unfortunate one, she had been beside herself, and it wasn't like she or Amrothos had asked if she could ride on the front of the King... somehow he seemed to hold himself responsible for her near demise, although he was the reason she was still alive. And last night, all he had done was take care of her in the middle of her shock. Unwittingly, she had gone and declared to all Rohirrim present, both in his company and here in Faramir and Éowyn's home, that she and the King of Rohan were intimate with one another – possibly even getting married!

But she couldn't deal with all of this right now, couldn't face the consequences of last night just yet. Maybe it was a cowardly reaction, but it was all she was capable of at the moment.

"Leave me alone!" she exclaimed at last, feeling like a prey driven to corner. Her voice came out even more pathetic than her words sounded, but she didn't stay to see how he received them. Instead, she turned, picked up her skirts, and ran back inside.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's a new chapter to start the week! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

So, it is as many of you suspected: sharing saddle with Éomer, Lothíriel accidentally made the implication they are betrothed. Plus, I think Amrothos helping her into the saddle would add another layer to it, as he is at the time her nearest kinsman. In other words, it would seem like her family is approving of the union.

Unfortunately for them both, Lothíriel isn't at quite the soundness of mind as usual, so the confrontation doesn't end so well. But we'll see what happens now!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Lydwina Marie -** Thank you! I think for all he tells himself and others, he's pretty soft inside. ;)

 **coecoe11 -** Happy to hear that! :)

 **Anon -** You had it pretty close to the right mark! I decided she's still rather shaken, so her reaction may come across as a bit extreme. But I think it's understandable in her situation.

 **meldisil -** Maybe this is what you imagined? ;) I hope you liked Éomer's POV in the start. I'll try to get back inside his head soon!

 **eschscholzia -** I hope this is close to your idea! :)

 **Jo -** I imagine this chapter should answer that question!

 **Nerdanel -** Glad to hear that! To tell you the truth, at the beginning I wasn't sure how Lothíriel would turn out. But sometimes the character just unfolds during the story and that's the way you find out. :)

I'm reluctant to say anything about the length, because by now, I've learned that usually my statements on that matter turn out false! :'D

Also I hope this chapter answers your questions about what Éomer and Éowyn were talking about!

 **EStrunk -** Yes, that's how I thought she would react! Hopefully it wasn't bad sleepy - it just seemed to me she would be dead tired at that point. Also hopefully this chapter satisfies your questions!

 **Madam X -** Thank you! :)

 **Wondereye -** I hope this chapter rather ends the secrecy!


	4. Chapter 4

It didn't take long for Éowyn to make her appearance. Whether she had seen the princess running away from him, or had been lying in wait, Éomer did not know.

He was seated on a bench, which was placed there so that his sister could survey the works of her hands and enjoy the blooming garden. Not knowing where else to go, he had sat down there and was now resting his head in his hands, rubbing his fingertips against his temples. What a terrible mess this was! He was painfully aware he hadn't done a very good job about explaining things to the Princes, but on the other hand, the situation had escalated far too quickly for a calm conversation. She had got so angry with him, and the likely course of action she would take was to get as far from him as she could. If she did, then he was not like to have a chance of making her understand the depth of intimacy and commitment they had conveyed when they had ridden together. Betrothal was taken rather seriously in the Mark – in fact it was an announcement of imminent wedding, and the waiting period was rarely more than a few weeks – but he did not have a very good idea of how Gondorians regarded the matter. His only experience was of Éowyn and Faramir's betrothal, and while they had waited for almost a year, they had been completely smitten with one another for the period. However bizarre that was, they were actually what made this situation so serious: Éowyn had acted rather mildly, perhaps in preparation for her new position as a high lady of Gondor, and she surely hadn't ridden with Faramir before their wedding. But here was Faramir's own cousin, sitting before the King of the Mark himself in his saddle; thus she hadn't merely announced her acceptance of him but she was also publicly following the ways of his land. It was sure to raise the question if the union had already been consummated in secret.

Of course, they could pretend nothing had happened and part ways. But in that case, every Rohirrim in this wood would think there had been a terrible fallout between them – either he had abused her or cheated on her, or he had found out something about her that made her absolutely unsuitable choice for a wife. Either way, her name would be tarnished, and his people would wonder if he was cruel to women. It was sure to damage his own prospects, for decent men and their daughters were unlikely to want to have anything to do with some brute who abused his wife.

He knew his sister's light steps and so didn't lift his eyes to look at her when she arrived. He merely moved on the bench to make space for her, and she took seat next to him.

"How did it go?" Éowyn asked, although she must already have realised the confrontation had ended rather unpleasantly.

"What do you think?" he grunted in frustration. The whole affair had gone absolutely the wrong way! Throwing a pained glance at his sister, he muttered, "She ran away from me in tears."

"Don't be dismayed, brother. She went through a lot last night, even if she was keeping up a brave face this morning. Maybe she was more upset by the timing than the actual idea of marrying you", Éowyn offered gently. He groaned as an answer and continued to massage his scalp, fighting against the beginnings of a headache.

"It's hard not to be dismayed! She acted like it was the most horrible thing that could happen to her!" he said helplessly as he went over their conversation again and tried to think what he should have said otherwise. Should he have got on his knees before her and announced undying love for her? But then, he was not a man of frivolous words, and anyway he believed plain truth was always better than trying to mask it in sweet talk. And though he couldn't say he knew her yet, glimpses into her personality so far had implied she had spirit and mind like her father. Unless he had judged her character wrong...

"I rather doubt that, Éomer. She simply needs a chance to calm down. And I imagine her reaction is partly because she's not used to you – or Eorlingas in general. She probably expected to marry a man from among her own people, after all. The idea of her entire life changing because of one simple action is a lot to take in", Éowyn said gently and patted his arm. She went on, "At the very least, you needn't worry about her brother's reaction right now. Faramir sent Prince Amrothos out with a few of his Rangers, so there's no danger of him overhearing anything from your men. Not yet, at least."

That was smart thinking and he grunted his thanks in low tones. Certainly it was something that hadn't occurred to him before now. But then, his own mind had been rather preoccupied with the question of what to say to the Princess.

"You seem awfully calm now, sister. You weren't this collected last night", he observed, frowning to himself.

She didn't seem discomfited by this.

"I suppose I wasn't", she admitted, though. "But I didn't know the facts then and I didn't realise it was an accident. Not to mention, I had not yet heard how she would speak of you once I got to talk to her. Now I'm wondering if it was actually a very happy accident."

Éomer couldn't help but scoff softly at that. He guessed it made sense in a way. For if he was to marry and surround himself with a wife and a brood of children, then Éowyn could stop feeling guilty about leaving Rohan – and leaving him, her only living family by blood.

"What should I do, Éowyn?" he asked her in a low voice. "Should I just let it be?"

"Well, you might be able to make sure your men don't talk about it while you're around, but I doubt we can bully everyone into silence. Those of our people who came with me to stay here in Ithilien may have a thing or two to say about the last night, and eventually rumours will reach Mundburg. Either they will think you and Imrahil have some kind of an agreement, or that you and the princess are... hmm, involved", she answered thoughtfully. The idea made him shudder – not because the Princess was not an attractive woman, but rather because it was all too easy to imagine how her three brothers would react once those rumours reached their ears. At any rate, his sister was right: if he did nothing, it might damage Lady Lothíriel's reputation, ruin her chances of a good match, and put her father in a difficult position. Imrahil had always shown him nothing but friendship and respect, and at the very least he owed it to the Prince to make an offer for his daughter's hand. That was, if she consented to it at all. He needed her to relent first, before he did anything else.

Éowyn spoke again then, "To tell you the truth, brother, if one didn't know better, one might have thought it wasn't the first time you and her rode together like a pair of lovers. Not to mention, she spoke warmly of you and your actions last night, like I already told you."

"What do you mean, Éowyn?" he asked her, frowning to himself.

"Just that I don't think she's fundamentally opposed to the idea. Right now, she's just too beside herself to consider it calmly, or see the good that could come out of it. There's a fairly good chance of this working out the best possible way", she said, and when he looked up at her face, he saw she was smiling. Éowyn actually seemed rather pleased at this situation!

She reached for his hand then and squeezed it gently, "Tell me, brother, what do you think about it? And about her?"

"I... I do not know. To be honest, I'm just as surprised as she is", he said at length as he tried to make sense of the confused mixture of emotions clouding his head. "I have nothing ill to say about her. Imrahil and her brothers are friends of mine. Maybe she's a bit shy, but she has always been very polite to me. Well, up until now."

"But do you like her? Or can you see yourself liking her one day?" Éowyn pressed on. It was no wonder she took such interest in this – he knew she worried about him being lonely in Meduseld with nothing but Riders and advisers around him. Her suggestions in letters were not usually very thinly veiled when she spoke of this or that lady she had met either in Gondor or in Rohan. If he could recall, Princess Lothíriel's name had popped up once or twice, and considering they both were already friendly with her family, it would be advantageous more than in just one way.

"Ask me tomorrow and maybe I have an answer then", he said after thinking about it for a moment and realising he hadn't processed this enough to form a response yet. For one, it was hard to say if he could like someone who might consider him the worst thing to happen to her.

"Hmph. I think you do like her, even if you're not ready to admit it. I did see how you held her last night when you arrived here, dear brother", his sister said, sounding almost smug. One could have believed she had arranged the whole thing, what with the way she was beaming at him.

"And what would you advise me to do?" he asked her. If the princess was feeling overwrought, he did too. This surely wasn't in the slightest how he had imagined his visit to Ithilien would go!

"I think you should go for it. Try to get to know her, woo her and show her this is not necessarily a bad thing. She seems like a sweet young woman, and we both know it would be a sensible match", Éowyn said and reached to give him a hug. She spoke softly into his ear, "You deserve to be happy, my dear brother. And I think you and her have a good chance for just that, if you give it a try."

* * *

Not knowing where else to go, Lothíriel had headed straight back to the chamber given to her. Certainly she couldn't let anyone see her tears, because the alternatives of them thinking it was because of last night or having to explain what had just happened seemed both equally dreadful to her right now. Amrothos was sure to make a scene, and Faramir would be put into a difficult position, because he was both her cousin and a brother-in-law to the King of Rohan.

Thankfully, the maids had already left the room and she was left to mope in peace. Sitting on the floor next to the bed, she pulled her knees close to her chest and fished for her handkerchief with her good hand. For some time, she sat there trying to stop the stubborn tears that still kept blurring her vision, and reassuring herself it wasn't so bad, and she could figure this out.

But what a mess it was! Every single Rohirrim in this wood was probably wondering when the royal wedding would take place, and she knew better than to hope no talk would come from it. His friendship with her father was a fact widely known, and a union between him and her, however implied, would seem like a logical consequence. She was well aware he was extremely eligible and highly sought after by single ladies both in Rohan and Gondor, and many of them would probably regard this an incredible stroke of luck. The man had all but fallen into her lap! As for her father, he would probably be just glad if this resulted in a betrothal, considering how highly he regarded King Éomer. In fact, he'd probably think the Lord of Rohirrim was the first man who actually met his exacting standards in regards to his only daughter.

From every point of view, this was a good thing, and there was no way these same notions hadn't occurred to him already. And how she had run away, probably leaving him thinking that she'd rather marry a troll than him!

Thankfully, she had mastered her emotions at the time there was a knock at her door, and she heard Faramir's voice: "Lothíriel? May I come in?"

Deciding she made a pitiful picture just sitting on the floor, puffy-eyed and clutching her handkerchief, she jumped up on her feet. She answered: "Just a second!"

Hurriedly she stuffed her handkerchief among her dirty travelling clothes and washed her face, scrubbing as efficiently as she could with just one good hand. Her attempts to disguise her recent emotional reaction were not entirely successful, though – her face was still red and her eyes without their usual brightness. Then again, Faramir was family, and more level-headed than Amrothos. Chances were Lady Éowyn had already told him everything.

"Come in", she said, having smoothed down her hair and resolved there was nothing more she could do to improve her current appearance.

Her cousin stepped inside. His expression was worried and anxious, which didn't surprise her; the King of Rohan must have already reported the manner of her flight. She could only wonder what he made of it. Maybe he was furious and insulted, and what if he did something reckless? They said he had a temper. What could she tell her father if her actions somehow lead to the breaking of friendship between him and King Éomer? Oh, Elbereth! How thoughtless she had been in running away!

"Are you all right, cousin?" Faramir asked her as he pulled the door close behind himself. He must have seen the dreadful expression growing on her face as she considered the possibility of ruining the good relationship between her family and the House of Eorl.

"Nothing's wrong with me. There's no need to worry", she stated, surprised to hear herself sound so calm and steady. But her cousin didn't seem convinced; he hovered at the door, wearing still that same concerned face. She wanted to grimace and fidget, but kept her expression level and her body motionless. How wonderfully the events of last night and today had spiralled out of control! Now everyone thought her fragile and nervous, and susceptible to a breakdown at a smallest disturbance.

Warily she asked, "Is the King of Rohan very angry with me?"

"Not that I'm aware", Faramir said gently, "and believe me, if Éomer was angry, we would all know."

Lothíriel shuddered, not able to decide if that was a good or a bad thing. How fully this horselord lived his emotions! Were all Rohirrim like him? How noisy and strange life must be in their land if they all had such passion! Suddenly, a curious thought came: if his anger was like that, then how did joy or happiness appear on him?

Thankfully, before these thoughts could grow and continue, her cousin spoke again.

"Éowyn told me what happened, so I thought to check on you", Faramir said carefully and regarded her with a slight frown on his brow.

"She told you everything? About what happened last night?" she asked him unevenly. "Or, what the Rohirrim think happened?"

"Yes, she did. To tell you the truth, I'm much less surprised than I would have expected. It sounds like their way of thinking", Faramir said and came to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

She looked at him with some confusion, which he saw; her cousin smiled wryly and patted her shoulder. He spoke, "Let's just say marrying one the Rohirrim is an on-going adventure. They have a lot of different ideas than we do, but it's not necessarily a bad thing."

"So you think it's not unfortunate what happened?" Lothíriel asked him warily. Her cousin seemed much less doubtful than she felt, and he shrugged before speaking.

"Honestly? I think it's what ever you decide to make of it", he stated simply. Now his expression became gentler and he picked up her good hand in his own. Softly he spoke, "Is it the unknown you fear, cousin? At the very least, I can tell you not to be afraid of Éomer. He's young and perhaps untamed compared to the lords of our own land. But having seen how much he cares about Éowyn, and the way he strives to help his people, I think it's safe to assume there's a good heart behind that gruff demeanour."

"It's not that I'm afraid of him, Faramir", Lothíriel said, frowning slightly; her mind was so confused, it was difficult to make sense of the wildly racing thoughts. If only she were brave enough to speak plainly and honestly! But Faramir seemed to have already made his assumptions, and it was better to keep her silence than to share one of her deepest, most aching secrets with even someone so dear as him. For though she sometimes felt Faramir took her more seriously than her brothers and understood her better, he too still regarded her so much as the child she had been.

She spoke, frowning but not untruthful, "It's just... I suppose it's just because I feel like there's no choice, either for me or for him. I do not think he would ever have looked at me twice if not for my father, and yet I know I will be an embarrassment to all my family when a rumour of this gets out. Cousin, I know I sound like an ungrateful child, and I'm sure you are right about him, but I don't want to make this choice because it's the only way to save my face."

He seemed to understand, or at least his expression implied so. He squeezed her hand as though to console her.

"Cousin, I cannot pretend I know what it must feel like. But maybe... if I may suggest such a thing, he could understand you better than you realise", Faramir said carefully. Seeing her expression, he hurried to add, "All I'm proposing is giving him a chance. You might find yourself surprised, Lothíriel."

He patted her arm then and got up again.

"Now, care to join me for a walk outside? I haven't had a chance to show you around here", he suggested with a smile.

"I... I'd love to see this place, but... I really need a little time for myself, Faramir", she said at length. There was a good chance she'd run straight into the King of Rohan if she ventured out of this room, and she was not yet ready for it.

"Very well then. Take all the time you need. Think about what I said, cousin", he said, kissed her brow, and then swept outside.

* * *

 _How do I woo a Princess?_

Why this question hadn't occurred to him before now, Éomer was not at first certain. Like Éowyn had pointed out, it was a sensible match, and he already had a good relationship with the rest of the Amrothian family. Then again, though not a small number of people had tossed suggestions his way since the war had ended, until now he had simply been too busy to consider the deed of finding a wife. Getting to know his new position, trying to make sure his people got through the first winter after the Ring War, starting the enormous task of rebuilding... between these things, he was simply too preoccupied. And searching for a bride was not simply a matter of proposing to first woman who pleased his eye: he would also have to find out if she could shoulder the responsibility of being the Queen of Rohan. And though he couldn't deny the idea of marrying a woman he could love was attractive, he didn't have much hope that he might be so lucky.

And the Princess of Dol Amroth was another thing entirely. At least to him, it seemed that she was the last woman in Arda who wanted the approaches from some king from the land of smoking ruins in the North. Maybe it was a manifestation of some frivolous male pride in him, but the Lady Lothíriel was the kind of woman he desired to _impress._

Only, he was so utterly disqualified to impress this particular lady that it was pathetic. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who was dazzled by one's prowess in arms – which was the one thing he knew how to do well. He couldn't win her over by talking about arts or politics: former was understood differently in Rohan than in Gondor, the latter he was still learning. He was not well-read or sophisticated, Éowyn often said his manners would make trolls despair, and he tended to announce his opinions far too bluntly. In short, he was the last man who should be seeking Princess Lothíriel's heart and hand.

However, it was the only way he could attempt to save her reputation and keep people from wondering whatever he had done to the poor woman for her to declare her acceptance one moment and next avoid him at all costs. At the very least, he had to give it a try.

But there still remained that problem: he didn't know how to woo her. Amrothos was out and so he couldn't ask him what she liked, and anyway it was probably better the Prince remained ignorant of the situation for the time being. Not to mention, Amrothos' idea of wooing seemed to consist of getting drunk and serenading racy and licentious songs under the window of his lady love. Faramir was of little use: like Éomer had suspected, he saw the Princess more as a little sister than a cousin, and to his experience, most advice men were able to give to those hoping to court their kinswomen was _"be good to her or else"._

In the end, he decided not to over-think it. There was no sense in trying to pretend something he was not, and at any rate it would be nothing short of a miracle if he was able to actually impress the Princess. With Éowyn's permission, and with a few pointers from her, he picked up some flowers in the garden and arranged them into what he hoped was a pretty little bunch. It would be a nice offering for peace, wouldn't it?

So, after he had combed his fingers through his hair to bring some order to it and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles out of his clothes, he climbed the stairs up to the second floor, where private chambers were located. Éowyn had given him directions to the lady's door and wished him luck, her eyes sparkling in excitement. In his opinion, she was far too optimistic about the situation.

Once he had reached Princess Lothíriel's doorway, Éomer halted and took a deep breath. He hoped he was not approaching her too soon, but on the other hand, not doing anything could be just as bad, if not worse. Who knew what she'd decide if she was left to simmer in her anger for too long? He had to at least try to appease to her.

Clutching the flowers in one hand, he lifted the other and knocked at the door. There was no answer at first, and he knocked again, calling to her: "My lady?"

There was a brief silence, and he could only wonder what she thought of him approaching her again when so little time had passed.

Eventually, an answer came: "Go away."

He gritted his teeth. Well, maybe it had been stupid to think she'd want to see him so soon.

"I brought you flowers", he blurted out in a most graceless manner, and immediately regretted it. He sounded like a complete moron! She must think she was being harassed by the most thick-headed horselord in Rohan.

"I don't want them", the Princess answered at length, and he could tell she was trying to sound tough and indignant, but she couldn't entirely mask her surprise. Perhaps that was what helped him to keep his temper in check. Éomer reminded himself she was young and stuck in a rather impossible situation, and he needed to be patient.

Last night, she had been so trustful, leaning her head against his shoulder as though there was no better place in the world to fall asleep... how could he win that trust again, if not with the same gentleness he had tried to help her?

"Are you sure?" Éomer asked. In a spur of the moment, he sat down next to her door, crossing his legs and regarding the flowers in his hands. In a bout of inspiration, he began to weave their stems together.

"Yes!" the Princess exclaimed, her voice so close she had to be standing next to the door. Maybe she was growing more curious than she was angry.

"That's a pity. Éowyn will be disappointed", he commented. Then, hoping maybe a sense of humour was the way around her mood, he continued, "Or knowing her, she'll probably demand to know if I accidentally picked up some onions from her garden and presented them to you as a flowers."

While he could tell the Princess was trying to suppress the noise, he did hear her snort in laughter at his words. But she said nothing, and he decided it best not to push his luck. Maybe all he needed to do was just break the ice.

"I'm going to sit here for a while", he announced to her, and then, to pass time while he weaved the flowers, he began to sing a Gondorian ballad he had heard back at Cormallen after the Dark Lord had fallen. He could have sung something from his own land, of course, but he wasn't sure she knew any Rohirric, and perhaps choosing a song that she might recognise would further reassure her? In any case, he considered himself a decent singer, at least in his people's standards. To his experience, while Gondorians did compose fairly good music and enjoyed it as much as anyone, they weren't generally as musical as Rohirrim.

Soon enough his task was finished and he ended the song. Éomer go up on his feet again and placed the flowers where she'd find them.

Glancing at the door, he announced: "I'm going now. I hope you have a good day, my lady."

He had no idea if this would change anything. Still, he hoped maybe she would feel a little less angry with him.

* * *

The corridor behind her door was quiet now. Lothíriel sat still next to the door, listening to the silence and feeling more and more confused as moments passed. When she had heard King Éomer's voice calling to her, she had reacted more with irrational, hurt pride than bearing in mind the conversation with Faramir. Deep in her heart, she knew it was because of her insecurity when it came to the horselord.

But he had kept talking and she couldn't deny his comment about onions hadn't amused her. Then he had started to sing, and feeling disarmed, she had sat down on the floor to listen. Leaning her back against the wall, she had marvelled at what a vibrant voice he had. How her heart had ached and her eyes burned! And how very bewildered he made her feel! He was trying even though she had given him no reason to do so.

Pushing with her good hand, she hauled herself up from the floor again, and opened the door carefully. She peeked outside, but the corridor was empty. The King of Rohan was already gone.

Lothíriel opened the door fully and took one step out. On the floor to her left, there were some loose petals, but of the rest of the flowers she saw no sign. Maybe he had taken them along and dumped them somewhere, angry and disappointed that she had not accepted this gesture?

But then she saw where the flowers had gone. He had woven them into a garland, which he had placed on the door handle!

She picked it up and held it in her good hand, her mind filling with wonder. Was it merely a coincidence, or did King Éomer know that her name signified a flower-garlanded maiden?

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here's an update! I have no idea whether this is at all where you expected the story to go, but here we are, and I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter!

I guess Éomer could be reacting differently, or that he could be acting more upset. However, I have a feeling a part of him may be seeing this as a blessing in disguise. As his musings should convey, he hasn't had that much time to think about finding a wife, while his advisers and people are probably urging him to get on with it. But Lothíriel is actually a very eligible lady as far as potential queen consorts go. As for her, there may be more to her reaction than just anger!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **eschscholzia -** Yes, it was hardly going to be an immediate success! Anyway, Éomer at least considers the betrothal rather seriously, and Lothíriel too seems to grasp it's a big deal in his people's eyes. So getting out of it may be a little more difficult than that.

 **Mary -** No reaction from Amrothos yet, though it seems people are rather anxious for it! I think right now everyone agrees he would only make things more difficult while our accidentally betrothed pair have not yet had a chance to figure anything out! As to whether this is going to be very angsty or not - we'll see!

 **Guest -** It is a rather unexpected situation for her, yes!

 **EStrunk -** Indeed, it wasn't going to just work out right away! I'm glad you liked that line. :)

 **Lydwina Marie -** Happy to hear the argument turned out well! I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

 **Tibblets -** Thanks! :)

 **Doranwen -** It's going to take some work and some understanding from them both. But yes, it's quite the mess!

 **Nerdanel -** I'm glad you like her! Well, I'm afraid this is going to be nothing like ALWR, but we'll see how far my words will carry us!

Also I think this story would very much suffer if I showed just one perspective. It's far more interesting and fits the story's purpose better when both their views are shown.

 **Jo -** I hope to be able to follow those expectations!

 **Anon -** Yes, she wasn't going to just be happy about it. Good to hear I was able to write their confrontation so well!

It's good to be writing, yes! :)

 **Guest -** That would have been quite the twist, too! But I'm afraid Rohirrim require a little more ceremony than that. In any case, like Éomer's thoughts hopefully show, betrothal itself is seen (at least in this story) as a rather serious matter in Rohan. So if they were just to ignore what happened, it would surely cause some ugly rumours.

 **Laithril -** Glad to hear you liked it! :) I'm afraid I can't answer your question, but will have to let the story to do so!

 **meldisil -** It was a big shock to her, yes. I hope you liked her talk with Faramir! :)

 **Madam X -** Thank you! Happy to hear you like Lothíriel - I do too!

 **Wondereye -** Thanks! :)

 **team . K. Putt -** It's easy to put the blame on him in that situation, yes. It was rather unfortunate for them both.

Amrothos has been whisked away for the moment, but we'll see! And I can't say whether this will be difficult or not - the story will have to tell that!


	5. Chapter 5

Whatever the King of Rohan had hoped to achieve by leaving her with the flower garland, Lothíriel did not know. But one particular result it did have, and it was getting her out of the chamber. Closed inside those four walls, she felt more anxious than ever, and she couldn't bear the confusion and doubt that grew louder the longer she remained alone.

So she headed downstairs, first thinking of seeking out Amrothos. However, she met her cousin in the entrance hall, and he reported her brother was out in the woods with a few Rangers, and was not expected to return before evening. Lothíriel decided it was probably for the best. It would give her some time to sort out her feelings, and figure out what to tell her sibling.

Faramir was happy to keep her company though, and he asked Lothíriel to join him and take a turn about the house. Like he had stated earlier, he had not yet had a chance to properly show her around in his new home, though his descriptions in letters had been so vivid that she felt like looking at visions she had previously seen in a dream. It was clear her cousin loved this place; she guessed it was partly because in so many ways Emyn Arnen meant new beginnings for Faramir, and no shadow of Boromir or Denethor wandered in these sunny woods. But in Minas Tirith and Osgiliath, memories of them were everywhere.

Talking away in enthusiasm, her cousin took her up and down the hallways of the house, pointing out this or that thing, and explaining how he had wanted this place to have something both from Rohan and Gondor. They took lunch together in his study, her asking questions and Faramir answering them with such enthusiasm as though he was a young lad. When he spoke of his wife, his voice was warm and his eyes were bright. Obviously, there was great love and happiness in his union with the White Lady of Rohan, which eventually formed a question in her mind, strongly related to her own current situation.

"Faramir, what is it like to share your life with a person who comes from a different world than yours?" she asked him in a soft voice. They had already finished the lunch and returned to the main hall again, and they strolled side by side. The twin doors, carved by a Rohirric master, were open to the courtyard. Noise carried inside, along with bright sunlight of summer's afternoon.

Her cousin did not seem at all taken aback by her question.

"It's actually rather fascinating. You get to see things from a new point of view. And you learn much about yourself, too", he started, gazing ahead with a thoughtful look. He smiled fondly, "Éowyn is fond of challenging me. She often makes me notice things about our way of life I had never thought of before. And of course, she's unlike any woman I've known until now."

They were approaching the doors now, and Faramir continued to speak.

"Not to say it's always easy. You have your expectations, and she has her own. More often than not you take them for granted, forgetting it's not something she knows or even thinks is a right way. So there are occasional clashes when one fails to do something that was obvious for the other", he explained, and Lothíriel frowned at her kinsman's words.

"Is it worth it, then?" she wondered out loud.

"Absolutely. Through her – _with_ her _–_ I see world like never before", Faramir said warmly.

Lothíriel considered this for a while in silence. She couldn't deny the idea was an attractive one, and for all she loved her father and brothers, sometimes she did feel a bit suffocated with them. Often they would treat her more like a child than a young woman and it frustrated her, no matter how well-meant their behaviour was. But what Faramir said proposed a chance for another life and experiencing it in ways she had not imagined before... and wasn't the Lady Éowyn one of those Shieldmaidens of the North? Didn't their existence stand as proof that in Rohan, a woman could live up to an extraordinary fate?

While she was still thinking of this, they stepped out of the hall and into the courtyard. It was a rather beautiful day, even for the sunny woods of Ithilien. No wonder her cousin loved this place so much, and wanted to make it safe again. But surely it was a strange thing that both him and a fierce woman of Rohan would hold it so dear. Then again, perhaps they had more in common than one might guess just by outward appearances. Maybe two different worlds could meet and embrace one another...

Lothíriel shook her head, unsure if she was even thinking of her cousin and his wife anymore. Thankfully, Faramir had not noticed anything strange about her, and he was talking to her about the town he and Lady Éowyn were planning to establish as a base for new people to settle the land. The princess tried to concentrate again, anxious to escape the moment she would have to make up her mind for a little while more. But no matter what she told herself or Faramir, she was growing more aware of how little choice she had, if she wanted to be true to herself and keep the good name of her House.

Her cousin was about to show her the stables – he had said that even a more exacting horselord might feel comfortable there – when one of his Rangers approached them, and Faramir excused himself from her company for a moment. Her own attention was caught by a group of men entering the courtyard, Rohirrim and Gondorians alike. A few were riding, and all of them carried what she recognised as practice swords and shields. They looked sweaty and dusty, and she guessed they had been sparring outside in the woods – Faramir had said he had not yet had a chance to build proper training grounds for his new dwelling.

Lothíriel's eyes were then drawn to the tall man among them. He was in shirt-sleeves but he seemed just as filthy as the rest of them. Maybe he was like Elphir, who often couldn't help but join the fray when he was training the new lads hoping to join the Swan Knights. The way he sat in his saddle implied he had been riding before he could walk, and he used his whole body to control and communicate with the horse. Before now, she had not thought horse-riding could display something so... graceful. Was that even the right word? Be that as it may, it was not the description she would have thought to use in relation to someone so broad and bearded. _A foreign world indeed._

She was still watching when the King of Rohan slipped down from the saddle, doing it with such ease she could just dream of; she had only mastered her distrust of horses with the aid of her sweet-tempered mare. A jab of loss went through her heart when she remembered what had happened to the poor thing in the woods. However, she all but forgot about that when the horselord received a water-skin from one of his men and splashed it over his head. Transfixed she stared, watching how water ran down his neck and glued the linen shirt against his tanned skin and strong muscles beneath. She swallowed hard but couldn't look away, though her cheeks grew warm, and somewhere deep there was a certainty she was never going to feel the same as before this trip.

It was Faramir's voice that snapped her out of it at last, half to her embarrassment and half to her relief. Her thoughts surely were growing more addled as the day progressed – and, strangely enough, it had already wiped away the last remnants of her shock last night.

"Cousin? Are you all right?" he asked her, and she moved sharply to look at him. Hopefully he hadn't noticed her ogling at the horselord.

"I'm fine", she said a bit too quickly, which he seemed to notice. So she hurried to add, "Have you already put your guests to hard work?"

Bantering with Faramir had always been one of her favourite pastimes. Partly it was because she loved to see the endearingly bewildered expression on his face, but even more than that, it was one of few ways she could distract him from his many concerns. During the years before the War of the Ring, Faramir had not often had many things to laugh about, and his father and brother were too serious and distant to engage in such childish endeavours. But with her play of words, she had always been able to make her cousin laugh.

"Last night I asked if Éomer and his men could train with mine today. It's not that I expect to meet many horse-riding orcs in these woods, but I like to keep my Rangers well prepared. It's good exercise for Éomer's men, too. He likes to be prepared even for things that don't seem probable", he explained, before he noticed the playful smile on her face. He smiled too, and gave her shoulder a pat, "Between us, though, of course I enjoy making my brother-in-law sweat a little. After letting Éowyn marry me, it's not like he has anything left to blackmail me with."

Abruptly his expression sobered, like he had remembered something troubling. In a softer tone, he went on, "I owe him so much. He could have said no when Éowyn and I asked for his blessing, and yet knowing that her marrying me would leave him all alone in Meduseld, he let her go. Granted, not even he could prevent Éowyn from pursuing what she wants, but I know it would have been a great grief to her if she had to part with her brother in dispute. And every time we meet, I see in his eyes what it has cost him."

"What are you saying, Faramir?" Lothíriel asked, not meeting the eyes of her cousin.

"Just that often it's better to look at man's deeds rather than his words", he answered simply.

How right he was. And how she hated that fact!

* * *

After leaving Princess Lothíriel's door, Éomer had headed outside; he had made the first move, but she should be given a moment to decide how to respond. If Éowyn was right about the lady and the possibility this might actually turn out the best possible way, then he should allow her some space to decide what to do, instead of hovering outside her door like some hideous shade.

The night before, Faramir had suggested his Rangers could train with Éomer's Riders, at which task they were when Éomer joined them outside the walls of Éowyn and her husband's home. While he couldn't say he wasn't eager to distract himself from the rather strange situation this trip had put him into, he was also curious to see as to how his men were progressing.

Upon his arrival, he joined Éothain and Folcred, who were instructing the Riders. His captain nodded quietly, but the other man gave him a quizzical look.

"Well, how soon is the wedding?" Folcred asked. If he was speaking the question out loud, it probably meant others in the King's Company were wondering about it, too.

But Éomer gave the man one of his more intense glares.

"Are you here to train or to gossip?" he asked back sharply, hoping it would be enough to keep the curiosity of his men in check for a little while more. He was well aware he couldn't stop it indefinitely, but hopefully the Princess would make up her mind before he ran out of excuses. While he was aware he hadn't done the best job about explaining things to her, he was worried she was just so upset that they wouldn't be able to sort things out before it was too late.

Folcred looked embarrassed and he quickly turned back to the training. Meanwhile, Éomer suppressed his sigh and hoped to Béma that the lady's answer would not make the situation worse than it was.

A few hours passed quickly in the training, which he partook as well, and it was already afternoon when they returned to the house. He was satisfied with the lessons his men had received; one never knew when such knowledge might come in handy. With half an ear, he listened to their eager voices and wondered if they would have liked some more action with orcs. Most of his Riders had been under his command when he was still a Marshal, and at the time they had been more active on patrols and battlefields. But now that Éomer himself was so often occupied with the matters of the realm, and when their chief duty was to guard him and Meduseld, they didn't get to ride as much as before. Well, maybe Aragorn had some nice little war brewing somewhere, where he could bring his lads to let out some steam, Éomer thought to himself wryly.

Receiving a water-skin from Éothain, he lifted it and washed his head. Training had been sweaty and dusty work, and he missed the winds of his own land that relieved even the warmest summer days. Briefly he wondered if Aragorn ever made such appearances before his men, or if his friend was always wrapped in some kind of a fairy light that shined from Arwen. But Éomer had long since decided he wasn't going to try to be a lord like his friend. It was not like him at all and he knew well that his people would have shunned that kind of a high and distant ruler. He preferred to appear to his folk as a king who had risen from among them, even if he was of the House of Eorl.

These thoughts came to an end when Éothain quietly muttered: "Sire?"

He looked at his captain and quickly saw why his friend had called for his attention. The Riders around him had all quieted and they were looking at the young woman who had approached their company. She did not stand tall, but her posture made her look elegant and regal, and only the faintest shadow on her face betrayed she was not feeling entirely confident.

"My lady", he greeted her and bowed, hoping that appearing as though he had some manners would distract her from his current array and unwashed state. He hadn't even realised she was outside! Surely this would put her off even more, because there was no way he could imagine Gondorian lords allowing ladies to see them like this, sweaty and in shirtsleeves. Maybe he could have benefited from trying to be at least a little like Aragorn – even though in earlier days, his friend had often looked like he had just wandered out of a forest.

"My lord", she answered and curtsied, her movement so graceful it might break one's heart. Or perhaps everything she did just seemed like that because of how shabby and crude he felt at the moment. Be that as it may, she continued, "I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They are very pretty."

Éomer blinked. She liked the flowers? Had actually approved of them instead of throwing them away? Maybe she was just trying to be polite. Or maybe Éowyn was blackmailing her somehow, he thought incredulously. In any case, this felt much better than their catastrophic encounter earlier this morning.

He coughed and bowed again, feeling gawky and over-sized in a way he hadn't in a long time. One might think he had once more become that clumsy and awkward fifteen-year-old who was all elbows and bruises and too long limbs! Abruptly he began to feel this slip of a princess posed a danger far more serious than he had guessed.

"I am glad to hear that, my lady", he stated, surprised to hear himself sound so collected. Then, realising this was a good opportunity not only to buy them some time but also to do some wooing, he carefully picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. When he glanced up at her face, he saw a gentle blush spreading on her cheeks. She licked her lips, a rosy bud that glistened invitingly, and momentarily their eyes locked. What did his eyes reveal to her, that her blush deepened and she looked so swiftly away? The King of Rohan tried not think of that. He reminded himself they were betrothed only as far as Rohirric custom went, and the Riddermark was far away.

Even so, he knew something had passed between them just now, and while she was trying to pretend otherwise, he could tell she had felt it too.

"I must go, my lord. Cousin Faramir was showing me around", she muttered in a small voice and she made another curtsy, though it was more hasty this time. He nodded at her and watched her go, letting out a deep, trembling breath as he felt his muscles unclench. When had he grown so tense?

In any case, the Rohir knew this little display was sure to convince his Riders that he and the Lady Lothíriel were in courtship. But it should also spare him from further questions for the time being and stall the less savoury rumours that might have emerged otherwise.

A hand patted his arm and Éomer turned to see his captain grinning.

"Nice", Éothain commented under his breath, but his tone couldn't have been more suggestive even if he had tried.

The young king groaned.

"Shut up."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's a new chapter for the weekend! Originally I wasn't going to update today, but sometimes stuff happens and new bits of story emerge sooner than expected. I hope you enjoyed it!

Our king and princess are both still rather bewildered and trying to figure out what's going on and what they feel for one another. But I hope it's an enjoyable read, and I at least had a great deal of fun while writing this! It was also good to write some interaction between Lothíriel and Faramir.

All your comments are more than appreciated. Also thanks for your likes and follows!

* * *

 **Guest -** Thank you! I'm glad I have been able to describe them so well. :)

 **Doranwen -** He's a little nonplussed but he's doing his best! :) And yes, sometimes it's the journey that counts!

 **Lydwina Marie -** Thank you! Maybe he was doing even a better job than he realised. :)

 **Anon -** As far as Lothíriel's thoughts go, I'm afraid to say anything lest I reveal something about the story I don't want to at this point. But as far as Éomer's motivations and actions go, I think you are dismissing his intimate relationship with the Amrothian family. See, obviously other Rohirrim present would not be so deeply concerned about Lothíriel's safety. But Éomer thinks (whether that is warranted or not) that he nearly got her killed, which makes him feel he is responsible for her. There is also his friendship with Imrahil, and he feels obliged to take her to safety as a personal favour to the man he respects. But I think he also feels indebted to Imrahil, because it was him who discovered Éowyn was still alive when she was carried from the Pelennor fields, and caused her to be brought to Houses of Healing. So, I think Éomer feels like he owes Imrahil, which in turn impacts his decisions in the first chapter.

 **Nerdanel -** I guess it is a mouthful, though I have never felt like that. Long names aren't that uncommon in my native tongue, and I've always loved her name. But you are right! Poor Lothíriel has indeed had a very long day! :D

 **EStrunk -** Well, let's just say neither of them would be sorry if this resulted in a happy marriage! As for Lothíriel showing some appreciation - maybe she will soon enough!

 **eschscholzia -** I'm glad you liked it! I would say this situation came to be too suddenly for them to be level-headed about it. But Éowyn and Faramir surely have their own ideas!

 **Wondereye -** We will see about that, when and if he returns!

 **Rinarwen -** Yes, I think that may be my favourite thing about writing Éothiriel! :D Confused babies, who cannot love them? Also glad to hear you liked that last scene!

 **Guest -** Happy to hear you liked it! I think it's a very new situation for Éomer. He has never tried to win the heart and favour of a princess, so he's a little lost.

 **Jo -** That is the question I ask every day!

 **Sandy-wmd -** Though the story isn't going in ways you had thought, I hope you like it! :) I have a feeling it could just make things worse if Éomer actually gathered people together and tried to explain. And to be honest, that doesn't seem like his style, not to me at least. But that's just my opinion!


	6. Chapter 6

According to Faramir, Amrothos should be back before the dinner was served that night. He suggested they dine together: apparently, Lady Éowyn wanted to catch up with her brother and Faramir had tactfully as ever arranged the Gondorian party to have the meal elsewhere.

Knowing that the King of Rohan would not be present, Lothíriel had decided this would be a decent opportunity to break the news to her brother. She was hoping he wouldn't be dismayed, but if that should be the case, then at least he wouldn't have a chance to stick a knife between the Rohir's ribs. Not that she believed even Amrothos to be so irrational, but he had not exactly been blessed with discretion or subtlety.

Before dinnertime, she headed outside so that she could receive her brother when he arrived. The courtyard had considerably quieted from the bustle of daytime, and so when she came out of the hall, she immediately saw the tall blond man sitting next to the door of the stables.

Her first instinct was to pull behind one of the pillars by the doorway, which urge she followed without thinking. Once hidden from sight, she bit her lip in uncertainty. She was being craven, yes, but it was one thing to be face to face with King Éomer when others were around, and entirely another to meet him alone. A dangerous memory, one that she had tried to avoid since afternoon, resurfaced again: his kiss on her hand, the careless way she had allowed herself to look straight into his eyes, and the jolt of sheer electricity she had felt at his gaze...

She shook her head. This was not a good line of thought for her to entertain and she would do well to remember that.

With a clearer head, she also became aware of the problem before her: how to get her brother out of the courtyard quickly enough? Because when he returned and saw the King here, he would surely want to exchange a few words with the man, and who knew what the Lord of Rohririm would tell him? Granted, he had kept Amrothos in the dark until now, but there was no saying what conclusions he had drawn from their earlier encounter.

Lothíriel was not left to ponder this for long, because it was then her brother, along with four Rangers, arrived in the courtyard.

Amrothos looked a little way-worn, but also cheerful. As soon as he had spotted the King of Rohan, he hollered his greetings and sent the Rangers on their way.

"Amrothos. I was hoping to catch you", said the tall horselord as he stood up and straightened himself.

"You did? Well, here I am now. It's so rude of Faramir, putting his guests to all kinds of tasks on the very first day of the visit! I bet he already had you training his Rangers, or something of the sort", Amrothos prattled on as he undid the buckles of his jerkin.

"He did. But it was entirely appreciated", said King Éomer evenly. He wasn't going to join Amrothos in exchanging airy nothings, but cleared his throat and spoke, "I would like to talk with you about something."

Lothíriel bit back her gasp. Did the horselord mean to just tell her brother right here and now? Should she intervene or not?

"Of course! What is it, my friend?" Amrothos asked and tossed off the jerkin.

"It's about your sister and myself", said the King solemnly.

From her hiding place, she saw her brother flashing a massive grin.

"Really? No, don't tell me. I already know what it is! You have taken a fancy to her, haven't you? And she to you? Goodness me! You have been sneaking behind everyone's back, but now you want to make an honest woman of her, and you'd like me to talk in your behalf to my father. That's it, isn't it?" Amrothos asked eagerly, enjoying this far too much to her tastes. Lothíriel wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry or to slap him on his ear.

"Not exactly", King Éomer answered stiffly. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"Well, what is it, then? Éomer, you are my friend and I like you a great deal, but if you have done something to hurt my sister, I swear I will -" Amrothos ranted and for a moment, she wondered once more how could a man like Rohan's king even bear the company of someone so supremely obnoxious.

But while the Rohir looked a little aggravated, he didn't let the prince to continue.

"Amrothos, will you be quiet for a minute?" he spoke loudly, easily talking over the rapid outpour of words. The command in his voice instantly silenced Lothíriel's brother, which had her lifting her eyebrows. Not even Aunt Ivriniel had ever mastered the skill of hushing Amrothos down so effectively.

"I admit I could have handled the matter a lot better, but it's useless to regret that now. Amrothos, what happened in the woods last night... when you lifted your sister to sit on the front of me in the saddle, it was in fact an announcement to all Rohirrim present that she and I are soon to be married", the King of Rohan stated at length, staring hard at Amrothos.

Lothíriel bit back her groan. Of course the horselord would just go and advertise it like that! Why couldn't he just have left it to her!

As for her brother, he stood still, his mouth gaping. Now her groan became a barely contained snort of laughter. It was not often that Amrothos was left speechless.

But the silence went on and Amrothos kept gaping, and Lothíriel could see the King of Rohan growing impatient.

"Well, say something!" he barked at last and looked like he might actually reach and shake his friend.

He didn't have to do such thing. Because at long last, Amrothos burst into laughter. It was a low chuckling at first, but it quickly grew into almost hysterical fit of guffawing. It was so loud, Lothíriel could hear the horses whinnying in the stables, startled by the sound of Amrothos' mirth. Inside the house, Faramir and Éowyn's household were probably wondering if he had lost his mind.

"T-this has got... got to be t-the g-greatest thing I've ever... ever heard!" he stammered between bursts of laughter. He leaned down, his hands against his knees and gasped for air, and the King of Rohan seemed just as vexed with this reaction as Lothíriel felt. Her brother was acting as though the horselord had just quipped the most epic joke ever!

Eventually, King Éomer lost his patience. He grabbed a waterskin hanging on a hook by the doorway of the stables, and swiftly he emptied all of it over Amrothos' head. Lothíriel had to fight the urge to applaud his action.

"Get a grip, you half-wit", he snapped as the other man spluttered water all over the place.

Amrothos was blinking and looking at the taller man with almost equally bewildered expression as before.

"Wait", he said in a thin voice, "you mean you weren't joking?"

"Of course not! Why would I come up with something so absurd?" King Éomer asked impatiently and again looked like he was this close to shaking the other man.

Her brother was quiet for a moment. At least to Lothíriel he didn't seem angry, which was a good thing. On the other hand, he was the least likely of her three brothers to react with fury to this situation.

"What does Lothíriel say?" Amrothos asked at last, having somewhat collected his thoughts.

"She hasn't said much as of yet, but considering she ran away from me in tears when I explained this to her, it is quite clear what she thinks. Obviously she believes I am a hideous brute", King Éomer answered, his tone sardonic. In her hiding place, Lothíriel looked down and bit her lip. She hadn't realised he would believe she thought something so horrible about him. On the other hand, what else could her reaction imply?

"I'm sure she doesn't really think that", Amrothos said, shaking his head. "Actually, I had almost thought -"

Lothíriel breathed in, staring at her brother with wide eyes from her hiding place. But he didn't finish the sentence. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Never you mind. But if you ask me, she was just upset about last night. She'll come around sooner or later", he said. He seemed to be in control of himself again, and much unconcerned by any complications this situation could introduce. The princess was not quite sure if it meant Amrothos was indifferent to any problems, or if he actually endorsed her marrying King Éomer.

"I surely hope so. I only wish her to know I just want to make this work, somehow", said the Rohir in a softer voice, and she had to strain in order to hear. He sighed and continued, "It's clear I'm the lucky one here, Amrothos, if she consents."

"So you're not actually against the idea? You'd like to marry her?" Amrothos asked, sounding a little surprised. The princess scowled to herself. Her brother acted as though the prospect of a man wanting to marry her was highly unlikely!

"Well, I already am friendly with your family and it would be smart politics. As a king, I couldn't hope for a better match", said the horselord, much to her dismay. Of course he was right about what he said, but the way he put it made her feel like she was a piece of meat he was considering as a possible purchase.

"Éomer, if you hope to win her over, you need to try a little harder than that. She's a gentle soul and it will only break her heart if you treat her like a pawn in politics", Amrothos retorted, his tone much more sombre than usually. She felt rather surprised, because it was rare to hear him speak with such insight. Maybe he knew her better than she had realised.

"I am aware of that, Amrothos. Believe me or not, I want her to... I want her trust. I do not wish to be a cause of unhappiness to her", said the tall man, and Lothíriel saw him looking down with a slight frown on his face. She breathed deeply and felt the strangest little flutter in her chest, but then he spoke again, "What do you think your father will say? Is he going to be angry?"

"Angry? That is unlikely. He likes and respects you more than most men. If you and Lothíriel decide to make it formal, he should be simply delighted. Saves him the effort of going through the groom candidates of Gondor and finding them lacking, because no one is good enough for her as far as Father is concerned", said lightly, and she rather agreed with him. She had never heard their sire talking about lords of their land as highly as he spoke of King Éomer.

At that point, Lothíriel turned around and leaned her back against the pillar. She let out a small, trembling breath and looked down at her feet.

 _All I have to do is say yes,_ she thought to herself, _but what will become of us if I do?_

* * *

Amrothos was still grinning like a maniac when he joined Lothíriel and Faramir before dinner. She supposed she should maybe feel relieved, considering how well he had taken the situation. Surely he didn't seem to feel much guilt or regret for his part in the chain of events, but she decided it made sense, in a way. He was friends with King Éomer and probably considered the matter as he thought their Father would: the horselord was one of the very few men he approved of as a husband for his only sister.

"There you are, sister!" he exclaimed as he came and saw her and their cousin. "How is betrothal agreeing with you?"

She scoffed at his words.

"I knew you would act like an ass once you heard", she retorted. "I just wasn't sure what particular type of ass it would be."

"So I take it Éomer has disclosed to you what happened last night?" Faramir asked for his part, though she could see he was fighting a smile.

"Yes, I met him outside when we came back. First I thought he was joking", Amrothos answered and accepted a wine glass that she offered to him. He grinned again, "It's amazing, really."

"You don't mind at all that you're the one who put me there before him?" Lothíriel asked him wryly, but her brother merely looked amused.

"Are you kidding, sister? That's what makes it so good! Believe me, one day I will be having great deal of fun telling your children that I was the one who set up their parents!" he chuckled and sipped his wine. Faramir spluttered in laughter, but Lothíriel slapped her brother across the side of his head.

"You are the biggest buffoon in all of Gondor, Amrothos", she told him in exasperation, but he just smiled.

"Well, what are you going to tell the man?" he wanted to know. Faramir looked similarly interested in what she'd answer, as he considered her keenly.

"That is between me and him, brother", Lothíriel said, avoiding both their eyes. "I don't need you meddling with this. Your sticky fingers have already left quite a trail over the matter, and you have a tendency of making a mess of things."

"You wound me, sister", Amrothos said, lifting his chin in feigned offence.

Faramir took the matter a little more seriously.

"Cousin, you would do well to make up your mind soon. Rohirrim here will want a confirmation of some kind soon enough, or so Éowyn tells me. And it would be the polite thing to do by Éomer. He needs to know where you two stand, and if he will have to come up with a way to explain this to your father", he stated solemnly, holding his glass of wine between his hands.

"I know that", Lothíriel said softly and looked away again. She wondered if her two kinsmen thought her very absurd, the way she was hesitating. What woman would feel troubled at the idea of marrying a handsome young king who is held in high regard by all who know him? But they were men and they shared brotherhood by arms and their positions as high lords. What did they know of the secrets in the hearts of women?

Thankfully, a servant came to announce that the dinner was ready to be served. Following Faramir's lead, they moved to enjoy the meal, but Lothíriel knew better than to relax yet. The matter of her suggested betrothal was sure to come up again sooner or later, and she was all too aware that her time was running short.

* * *

Though past two days had been quite eventful and taken some turns Éomer was not yet sure if they were very fortunate, the evening spent with his sister was a happy one. They dined alone, not out of discourtesy but considering both them and the Gondorians were eager to catch up with one another. He surely had looked forward to it, and so they sat late together, first over the meal and then in her solar, drinking wine and talking. They spoke of days gone by and loved ones who were not with them anymore, and he thought maybe time had healed some wounds, because the memories they shared had them laughing more often than feeling the bitter pang of loss.

But eventually evening grew old and the last rays of sun died in the west. Stars blossomed in the sky and a gentle breeze occasionally breathed in through the open window. It was a fair night and the air was fragrant and sweet. It was hard to believe only yesterday, orcs had been marauding so close to this beautiful home.

When they had finished their drinks, Éomer bid good night to his sister, who gave him a tight hug before sending him on his way.

However, upon arriving to his rooms, he did not feel tired. The wine had warmed his blood and there was a desire for something he couldn't name.

So he opened his window, which overlooked the garden, and leaned his elbows on the window board. Breathing in the air of a gentle summer's night, he abruptly yearned for a night of music and fire's light and a fair maiden he might take to a dance...

The idea sobered him as soon as it had come, and he thought about the conversation with Amrothos. He hadn't been sure how the prince would react to the news, even if he had suspected Imrahil's youngest son was also the most likely to take it well. And so Amrothos had, even if he had first thought it was a joke. But as far as Éomer could gather, the carefree prince already considered him more or less a member of the family, so from his point view, Éomer marrying Lothíriel didn't change that much.

He supposed it was a relief. At least he had one less Amrothian to worry about, and maybe Amrothos could help him to get through to the Princess. On the other hand, it would probably be smart to make sure his friend didn't get overly helpful. While the youngest of three princes meant well, he could also be thoughtless at times and his aid could make things worse, not better.

The young king of Rohan sighed and breathed in the night's air, and for the first time since last night, he allowed himself to imagine a future with the Princess as his consort. She would be a fine queen if she put her heart in it, of that he had no doubt. She had grace and dignity, and he remembered Erchirion telling him their father had made sure all four of his children had the best education in Gondor. Certainly there were not many women to match her in Middle-earth.

Queen was another thing. What about wife? Éomer closed his eyes and thought of how readily she had trusted him last night, letting him take her to safety instead of demanding for her brother. How she had rested her head on his shoulder and the warm, shining look in her eyes after the healer had tended to her... in retrospect, it had been such a promising start. If that trust could survive, then maybe this could turn out all right.

And then, before he even knew it, the mental images came to him: Princess Lothíriel coming to him, wearing a bright smile on her face as her father placed her hand in his, the taste of bridal mead on her lips, and combing her braids open with his fingers... her body next to him in the massive bed that had been so cold and lonely, her voice echoing in the Golden Hall as she instructed the servants and welcomed guests, and holding a child in his arms that had her eyes and her smile.

He opened his eyes once more and felt bewildered. It was easier to picture than he could have guessed. In fact, the images had come to him more readily than ever before now, when he had briefly considered the idea of marriage.

This line of thought, somehow profoundly moving him to his core, came to an end when he saw a pale figure in the garden. Wandering in moonlight, her slim figure betrayed her sex, and her long dark hair cascaded freely down her back. The deep, dark green of the garden, silver light of the moon on her pale robe, and the sweet fragrances of fair summer of Ithilien... had he wandered into a song? For surely the vision before him was too fair for the mortal world.

Then he recognised her by her gait, as though the dark hair and the fact no other ladies were visiting Emyn Arnen at the time weren't enough of a hint. Something sang in his blood, rich and red as the wine he had drunk, and without hesitation he followed the impulse that had come to him.

He had to talk to her.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here's an update! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

Some of you, my dear readers, have been anxious for Amrothos' reaction. It didn't seem like to me that he would be dismayed by it. In fact, this version of Amrothos enjoys the whole matter very much. It could also be that he has some insight to the situation Lothíriel isn't aware of.

In any case, they may just be coming into term with what has happened!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Lydwina Marie -** Well, it's not like she intends to be teasing. It's just a very bewildering situation for her, and considering she doesn't have that much experience of men who aren't members of her family, she may not fully understand what is going on between them.

 **Luckylily -** Thank you! :)

 **Anon -** I hope you liked Amrothos' reaction! I'd imagine they still have some time to figure out things, but when and if and how that will happen - we'll see!

 **Nerdanel -** Yes, she rather is! But he does have an impact on her more than either of them comprehends or admits. :) I'm glad you liked Faramir! The way you described him - that's how I want to portray him, so it's good to hear I've succeeded.

I'm also quite fond of Éothain! :)

 **Doranwen -** She's working through it in her own time! But we'll see what happens next. :)

 **EStrunk -** Happy to hear you think so! Smallest interaction can take you far indeed. :) Also you may be right about Faramir - he probably does understand more of what is going on than he says.

 **eschscholzia -** I'm afraid he enjoys it too much to be able to squirm! I know it may seem like he's not taking it too seriously, but perhaps Lothíriel's thought that he might know her better than she has realised may indicate that's not all there is to it.

 **Wondereye -** Glad you liked it! :)

 **Jo -** Gosh, I think I should watch the trilogy again some time soon! I love the Two Towers, too. I just wish there was more Éomer in it!

 **Guest -** All in good time! They are still trying to figure out their feelings, but then again it has only been one day. I hope you liked Amrothos' reaction!

 **Guest -** Thank you! I'm glad you like the idea. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Lothíriel retired after the dinner, but when the maid had come and gone, she still felt too anxious to settle down in the bed. She thought about the events of past twenty four hours: the battle in the woods, how safe she had felt when riding with King Éomer, this morning's disastrous conversation, and then the things Faramir had told her... sunlight glimmering on the Rohir's long blond hair as he poured water over himself and she spied a look of ease and contentment on his strong, bearded face... how confidently he claimed the space around himself!

The memories ran through her mind faster and faster and she started to felt a little dizzy. Needing to clear her head, she grabbed a robe and tied it around herself, and then she slipped out of her room. Her bare feet made no sound against the floorboards and she didn't encounter others on her way out, for which she was glad. She was not in the mood of trying to explain her little outing at this late hour.

Night was quiet and calm when she came outside. She breathed in deeply as she slipped in to the garden and felt grass under her feet, fresh with the dew. Somewhere, she thought she could hear her brother's laughter and guessed he had gone to sit the night either with Faramir's Rangers or the Riders from the North. With his gift of making fast friends, he had acquired quite the assortment of new acquaintances during the Ring War. Not a few of them were from Rohan, and the King of that land was not least. Chewing her lip as she walked, she envied her brother's ability of getting along with people so naturally – and finding so easily common ground with a man so splendid as King Éomer was. Maybe, if she was just as bold and carefree, things wouldn't have turned out like this. Maybe then she could have immediately given the King of Rohan the answer a man such as him surely deserved from a lady of the land that owed a debt as grave to him as Gondor did.

She sighed and walked ahead, and once more her memory returned to when she had thanked him for the flowers and he had kissed her hand. A voice seemed to whisper: _what are you afraid of?_

Indeed. Perhaps it was time for her to stop being so scared, and just... let the stream to carry her. And she thought of a pair of dark eyes and the invitation she had seen in them. Or was that wistful thinking?

Gazing at the house, she saw an open window and light streaming outside. A shiver ran down her spine, but it was not in apprehension. Rather, it almost felt like foresight.

What had she found in the woods, precisely?

* * *

The house was quiet already when Éomer strode downstairs, making haste as to not lose the precious moment. Who knew how long she would linger in the gardens?

He was glad not to encounter anyone on his way. Amrothos or Faramir might have wanted to exchange words with him, thus delaying him from reaching the Princess before she went back inside.

The wind rustled softly in the trees when he entered the garden. Some of the day's heat still lingered under the stars and there was such peace in the world as though all griefs and struggles had ceased for a while. And he felt _hopeful._ Was it just the wine, or what had brought this mood to him?

Anxiously he sought the garden with his eyes as he strode forward, but the pale figure had vanished. Had she gone back inside already? An owl hooted somewhere nearby and gravel of the pathway crunched under his boots as he walked. Should he call for her name, or would it only frighten her?

But then he saw movement in the shadow, and once more her figure appeared from a shadowy corner. Éomer took a deep breath.

"My lady Princess?" he called to her and she halted, looking at him warily.

"King Éomer", she answered in a soft voice, and he approached her carefully, hoping that his body's language would not alarm her. This moonlit garden was probably the most wonderful kind of a setting for a romantic encounter one could possibly hope for, but for whatever reason Éomer felt like a lad who has never courted a woman before. Well, in a way that was true: she was no wild lass of the Mark, but a Princess of Dol Amroth in Gondor, and the further this day progressed, the more seriously he considered the idea of marrying her. And if all things he had heard about her were true, she was more qualified to be the Lady of Rohirrim than he had been to become the king of his people.

"I saw you from my window. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" he said at length, hoping to break the ice. Suddenly, he was reminded of hot summer days in the Mark. What would Princess Lothíriel think of his country in summertime? However strange that was, he could rather easily imagine her walking down some green hill, and wind catching in her long dark hair...

"Yes it is", she agreed, clasping her forearm with her good hand. She looked so young, so unsure. Once more, the wish to win her trust mounted in his chest.

"I beg your pardon, Princess. I can leave if you wish to be alone", he offered, though he really didn't want to go. That same song he had felt before still throbbed in his veins, like music made liquid.

"No, of course not. You have as much right to be here as I do", she quickly said, stepping closer to him and holding her hand before her in a gesture of consolation.

Maybe she was ready to listen to him once more. He had to try.

"My lady, I was wondering if you have had a chance to think about what we talked earlier today", he said, keeping his voice even and gentle. "At least... when I spoke with your brother, I felt like there's a reason to be hopeful."

She looked down briefly, but when her eyes met his again, he thought she looked a little more confident than before.

"I have considered it", said the princess, gazing at him with sombre expression on her face. She went on then, "I know how bad my reaction looked like, and I'm sorry if it has offended you, my lord. I know I didn't exactly imply anything of the sort at the time, but I do appreciate your sincerity – you told me the plain truth, and you didn't try to embellish it or mislead me. I see now it shows that you have more respect for me than many a man I have known does. But truth is even I did not know then where my horrified behaviour came from. Since then I have had some time to think, and... and I've realised it wasn't the idea of marrying you that so shocked me."

"Then what was it, my lady?" Éomer asked, growing more amazed at her words the longer she spoke. There was wisdom in her insight as he had rarely seen in one so young, and he began to feel that she was a woman of rare grace and dignity.

"It was just... it was feeling like I was given no choice. And it would be a lie if I claimed that injured pride did not play a part in it. I thought you would never have offered for my hand – in fact, you would not even have noticed me – if the last night hadn't happened. Few people have ever taken me seriously, my lord; I have always been just the little sister of three shining princes. And then the one man whose good opinion I desired above anyone else's in the world was there in my reach, and yet it didn't feel like you truly _saw_ me as..." she explained, but began to hesitate towards the end of her sentence.

"Saw you as what?" he asked, trying not to speak too heatedly. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her – even though it was starting to sound she was much braver than one might have guessed.

"As someone with a mind of their own. As a person and not a duty", said the princess, and at last she looked at him again, her eyes shining like stars of the night sky. In a softer voice, she added, "As someone who has loved you since the moment we first met."

For the longest time, Éomer could only stand there, stunned into silence. She... loved him? This soft-spoken, well-bred lady loved him, a coarse horselord of the North? Had anyone else made such statement that Imrahil's daughter would have fond feelings for him, he would immediately have dismissed it either as a joke or a lie. In fact, her previous actions made it hard to believe even when she muttered it out loud herself. But as he searched her face and eyes and saw no dishonesty or falsehood there, and so far he had not seen anything in her that would mark her as untruthful. And did he not understand pride and violent reactions it could inspire when injured? When looking at her initial response from this perspective, he at last understood it perfectly.

"I admit it's probably in part a childish kind of admiration", she continued and her voice grew embarrassed. "But my lord, I do wish to get to know you better. And you are on my mind too often, and too much in ways that cannot be just a child's attraction."

If possible, he felt even more bewildered. This morning, when she had fled in tears, he would never have expected to receive this confession from her within the hours of the same day. But there was also something else accompanying it... some male instinct waking and urging him to answer the invitation he heard in her voice. _Too much in ways that cannot be just child's attraction..._ Béma, what a wonderfully dangerous thing to announce to a hot-blooded man in a moonlit garden! However, he had to behave now and treat her courteously, especially when he sensed how much courage it had taken to admit her feelings to him.

"My lady, why haven't you told me sooner?" Éomer was at last able to ask, his voice coming out hoarser than he had meant. His eyes were fixed on her face, pale in moonlight. How hadn't he noticed before how very delicious her mouth was, or how graceful was the curve of her neck as it connected to her shoulders? It was as though he had never looked at her properly before now.

"Because I was scared of what you would answer... that you saw me as nothing but a silly little girl enamoured with the stories about you. Or worse: you'd think I was simply after your crown. I didn't know how to tell you. And today... well, like I said, my pride got in way", she answered and looked down. Her voice had become unsure once more, and he could guess the reason. She was growing scared again, dreading his answer and expecting it to be a dismissal. At once, he knew he needed to be as gentle with her as he possibly could. It was not often that a woman like her offered her heart so sincerely – only a cruel or a foolish man would crush her hopes and mock her, and Éomer was neither. Yes, there was fire in her, but also insecurity, born and fed by the constant feeling of being left in the shadow of others. And he knew he would love to see what became of her if the former was given a chance to grow, if he received her sincerely, not as a duty but like she asked: as a person. As a rather breath-taking realisation it came to him that he had the means and the chance to do just that.

"My lady Princess", Éomer started softly, reaching his hand for her shoulder. He felt her shiver under his touch, but she didn't shy away from him. He took a breath and continued, "My lady, I cannot say that I have considered you like a man considers a woman before this day. But past ten minutes, you have established your character in my eyes in ways some have failed to do though they have been given years of time. And to tell you the truth, it's not hard for me to see a life where you are my queen – in fact, I have already imagined it and found it good. If you wish to get to know me, I am happy to oblige, given that you let me know you as well. I do believe we can make this work. With your permission, I will contact your father and ask for your hand."

"Yes", she whispered breathlessly, and he knew he had said the right thing: dread and uncertainty were now gone from her. Her eyes were huge and excited, and he realised how easy it would be to get lost in them. She continued, "I would like that very much."

The young king smiled. When he looked at this princess and saw the brightness of her gaze, something hopeful expanded in his heart – something new and unfamiliar. For months he had avoided the topic of finding a wife, and now he was glad to have waited. The high lady standing before him was young and she had not yet been given a chance to try her wings, but Éomer knew he was looking at a kind of woman that only came a man's way once in a lifetime.

"My lady, I must ask you one thing", he said then, for the night was fair, he was happier than he had thought possible this morning, and before him there stood a rather lovely young princess. And, if they were to be married, he wanted find out this thing now and not wait in exasperation until the wedding day.

"What is it, my lord?" Princess Lothíriel asked him curiously, stepping a little closer as though she already knew what he had in mind.

"May I kiss you? For as the wife of a barbarian king, you should expect to be kissed much and often", he told her, and even in moonlight he got the impression she blushed. But she didn't turn away in embarrassment or horror. She met his eyes much more boldly than he'd have thought.

"Well, then I may as well as start and practice, my lord", she answered and a smile played across her lips. Yes, he had been right to assume her sense of humour would bear such a shameless statement. Éomer didn't think many women he had met in this land would have responded in like manner.

At any rate, her answer had something warm swelling in his chest, though there was also a word of caution: she didn't know what she fuelled with her boldness, and they didn't even have Imrahil's formal blessing yet! He'd have to be very, very careful now.

But the princess looked up at him with expectant eyes, and her lips were slightly parted in breathless excitement. She had a lovely mouth indeed, very well-shaped for a good kiss or dozen. Yes, he would have his hands full with this woman, and already he felt he'd enjoy every minute of it.

So he reached gently to cup her face and tilt it into a bit more accessible angle; there was some difference in height between them, but from last night he knew she would fit snugly in his arms. That promised to be a good thing. Her skin was soft and hot under his fingers, as though she was _burning_ to be kissed. He was happy to oblige.

The Rohir made it soft and tender, as he didn't know if this was her first kiss or not, and at any rate it would have been wrong to let his wilder urges to take control the moment. Maybe time would come for those when she was his wife – already he found he liked the idea – but considering how eventful her trip to Ithilien had been so far, it was better to take things slow. But it was difficult when her lips met his eagerly, and her softness and warmth invited him so sweetly. She moaned quietly and then in an abrupt motion she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his chest. Unable to resist the opportunity, Éomer deepened the kiss, desiring now only to get closer to her. Ah, Béma! He had not known what he had asked when requesting for a permission to kiss her!

But it was clear to him then and he was eager and hopeful in a way he had not felt in a long time. Yes, this was the woman and these were the lips for which he could give up all the other kisses in the world.

They were both breathing erratically when the kiss finally ended. On the face of the Princess Lothíriel he saw an expression that was both bewildered and exultant, and her eyes sparkled like never before. It was worlds away from their disastrous conversation this morning and he could hardly believe things had turned out so _right_ after all.

"Yes", the young princess said huskily, still keeping her arms around his neck. "If that is how you barbarians kiss, then I must say that being kissed 'much and often' sounds absolutely delightful."

The young king couldn't help but laugh, both in joy and sheer wonder. What a night this was! In his heart a new song was taking form and he was already anxious to get to know this princess better, to challenge her wit, to make her laugh, and of course kiss her very much.

"What is funny?" Princess Lothíriel asked him, looking up at him with such trust and warmth as he had never seen before in the eyes of any other woman. And for the sincerity in that gaze he knew here was someone eager to know the man behind the war-stories and the mantle of a king.

Éomer smiled. He bent his head to kiss her once more, brief but sweet. There was no need to rush and the wait itself could lead to some very good things. And something told him this princess was worth waiting. Hadn't she patiently waited for him to see the truth?

"Well, I simply did not expect to find a wife in the woods of Ithilien, but I think it may just have been the biggest stroke of luck I've ever had."

* * *

The second morning of their stay in Emyn Arnen came with soft, drizzling rain. As Amrothos of Dol Amroth sat nursing his healing tea that was supposed to help with a headache, he considered the weather quite fit his morose mood. As to what caused this state of mind, he was brooding over the fact he still had the audacity to try and drink Captain Éothain under the table. Surely, after all this time he should know better!

He gave a pained sigh and considered the drink before him. It was supposedly meant to help with hangover, but to him its chief quality seemed to be a foul taste and a distinct sensation of betrayal, induced by the failed hope of being relieved of headache. In his defence, things had been remarkably dull in Dol Amroth for past few months, and there hadn't been a chance to drink with his Rohirric friends the first night, so what else could he do?

Be that as it may, Faramir had not been so impressed upon his arrival to the breakfast table, and the Prince of Ithilien had shaken his head and given Amrothos a look that silently announced: _"serves you right."_

His sigh caused no reaction in Faramir and his lady wife, except for a brief roll of eyes. Amrothos ignored it and sipped more of his tea, thinking about last night. He frowned to himself when he remembered some revelations Éothain had given to him; a wave of brotherly concern mounted in him as he thought of what precisely a Rohirric betrothal entailed. While he trusted in Éomer's good sense and his respectful treatment of Lothíriel, he was not so sure about her. Yes, she was still quite young and inexperienced, but the looks he had spied her giving to the King of Rohan were not those of a girl.

Well, he would just have to chaperone better for her from now on. It wouldn't do if the two got it in their heads to start and work on an heir for Rohan when they had scarcely been betrothed!

Amrothos shuddered and cut the wings of this particular line of thought. Other than that, he did not feel worried or guilty over the whole accidental betrothal. In fact, he was just glad. Even if his siblings often took him for a self-absorbed fool with no sense of subtlety, that was not the whole truth: for he had long known that his sister was quite infatuated with Éomer, though she had spoken to no one of it. Indeed it had seemed to him she had not been able to take off her eyes of the horselord from the moment they had been introduced after the Ring War. How she had begged and pleaded with Father to let her accompany them to Rohan to join King Théoden's funeral escort, and how disappointed she had been to stay behind! And she had insisted on staying in Minas Tirith for the whole of winter, obviously in the hopes of catching at least a glimpse of Rohirric king when he visited Aragorn. But her chance had not come: her shyness, inexperience and even her pride had got in the way. He rather suspected those were also the cause of her initial reaction to what had happened the other night.

Because of this, how could he be concerned or guilty over his part of contributing in the accidental betrothal? It had given Lothíriel a shot with the man she fancied, and he was sure that once Éomer got a closer look at her, he'd fall straight away. Or at least realise her like was not going to come his way again.

His tea was starting to grow cold when the door of the dining chamber was opened and the King of Rohan himself arrived. But when he greeted the three and took seat in the table, Amrothos felt like checking again if it really was him. For there was a fine, self-satisfied smile on his face and he moved with a lightness in his step that had not been there before. The Prince could name only one or two occasions when he had seen his friend looking so truly, openly happy.

"What are you smiling about?" he inquired, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand and considering the Rohir with narrowed eyes.

"It's a lovely day", Éomer simply said, at which the other three exchanged a glance.

"Brother, it's raining outside", Lady Éowyn pointed out but her statement did not seem to have much of an impact.

"Indeed?" said her brother unaffectedly and reached for a pot of honey to add some in his porridge.

Amrothos was considering asking him who he was and what he had done to Éomer, when the door was opened once more and Lothíriel stepped inside. Even the Prince, who had known of her secret fancy, was surprised to see how radiant and glad she looked like. And how the horselord beamed at her! Abruptly concern rose in Amrothos head; yes, he would have to watch her well. And maybe send her to Dol Amroth on the next ship.

But Éomer got up on his feet and went to greet her, lifting her good hand and kissing it before murmuring some soft words to her. A faint blush blossomed on her cheeks and she looked, if possible, even happier. Then the horselord helped her to sit down in the table before taking his own seat again, and the two appeared almost giddy with joy. Amrothos groaned to himself and considered this had worked out a little too well after all. If the horselord did not tone it down, she would probably start to glow!

"Well, you two surely seem pleased this morning", Faramir commented at last delicately. He didn't seem to know whether to be bewildered or glad, but Lady Éowyn was having hard time concealing her smile.

Éomer and Lothíriel shared a glance, and it was that kind of exchange of looks that marked them as a pair of lost cases. Amrothos suppressed a sigh; he would have to tell Father to set the date of the wedding as soon as possible.

Smiling brightly, Lothíriel looked at Faramir, while with her hand she brushed that of Éomer.

"Haven't you heard? We are getting married."

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N:** So ends this story. I hope you enjoyed it, my dear readers!

Though this was a shorter fic in my mind from the start, I actually meant to write at least one more chapter. It would have been their reunion in Minas Tirith a few months later, when the betrothal would have been announced formally. However, when I was trying to draft that chapter, it didn't flow well and I didn't like it at all. Moreover, the bit from Amrothos POV in this chapter felt like more of an ending to me. Ultimately, I discarded the incomplete final chapter and decided to end it here. After all, the conflict is now resolved and our characters are quite happy.

One reason I wanted to include little something from Amrothos perspective was because the part he played in the accidental betrothal, but on the other hand, I also wanted to show you why he wasn't very worried or sorry about it. Like he thinks to himself, he has his subtler moments, and so he was well aware of Lothíriel's crush. So in the end, he was just glad she was finally getting her chance with Éomer, even if it came in a way he hadn't expected.

I hope that her explanation to Éomer makes as much sense to you as it did to me. She has indeed long fancied him, and I know it might seem like she should have been immediately happy about the betrothal. However, to me that would not have seemed like a genuine or sincere reaction, especially because her feelings, while still partly immature, are real. In other words, she was hurt because she feared he'd never genuinely feel the same for her. And her pride of course plays a part.

In any case, I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it! As for whether I will be posting a new story soon, I am planning on doing just that some time next week.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **eschscholzia -** I rather think he was already getting very comfortable with the idea of marrying her! ;) I hope this chapter explains Amrothos' reaction a little more.

 **Guest -** Thank you! :)

 **Mary07 -** What can I say? Sometimes I just live on cliffhangers! ;)

 **Nerdanel -** Hopefully this chapter gives more light on his reaction! Sure, he can be a bit mad at times, but he's not wholly blind. Also I hope you enjoyed the final confrontation!

 **EStrunk -** I must admit, I rather enjoyed that bit as well! Amrothos can be annoying but he means well. I hope his musings at the end of the story explain why he wasn't very remorseful.

 **Anon -** I think it was indeed her resolve that was missing! She was rather afraid of heartbreak, because she knew that she is falling in love with him but doesn't think there's a chance of him doing the same for her.

Lothíriel is young indeed, but I wouldn't be too hard on her for thinking in those particular terms. After all, she has grown up in the middle of men who she feels have always treated her differently than one another and left her, though not perhaps intentionally, in their shadow. She hasn't had a chance to be accepted by someone like Éomer, who isn't her family. However, she does recognise that her feelings for him are at least in part a childish admiration, which I hope shows that while she's young, she still knows herself and has enough wisdom to understand what she feels.

 **Jo -** He is wonderful indeed. :)

 **shine lots -** Thank you!

 **meldisil -** Hopefully this chapter will explain his reaction! :) Glad to hear you like the story!

 **Guest -** Thank you for your comments! I think now that Lothíriel and Éomer finally understand one another, they will both be quite happy with what has happened. :) Also please don't apologise for you English! I'm not a native speaker either, so I completely understand if it's hard. I'm just grateful you took time to review anyway!


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